#i wanna see the horrors behind being a superhero

[stuckysimp]

The feral urge to rewrite the whole Captain America franchise and the Avengers movies is real

[waitimcomingtoo]

The Morning After

Pairing: Tom Holland x reader

Synopsis: no one knows you’re dating until the boys walk in on you and Tom after your first time

Requested by @iwantacertainlondonboy

Masterlist

“I’m starving.” Harry whined. “Why didn’t anyone make anything?”

“Because you divs used all the dishes and didn’t clean them.” Harrison shot back as his tummy growled.

“Well who was supposed to go grocery shopping?” Sam snapped. “You. Now, all we have is hummus and barbecue sauce.”

“The barbecue is starting to look real good.” Tuwaine mumbled.

“Let’s get Tom and Y/n and go get brunch or something.” Harrison suggested.

“They’re sleeping.” Harry whined again. “Why don’t we just go without them?”

“Because if we go without them, Tom won’t pick up the tab.” Harrison said as he tapped the side of his head.

“Smart thinking.” Sam agreed. “I’ll get Y/n.”

Sam got off the couch and made his way to your bedroom. He took a deep breath before knocking on your slightly open door.

“Y/n?” He asked softly as he pushed the door open. He tip toed into your room and gently shook the pile of blankets on your bed.

“We were all going to get some breakfast.” Ge continued in a soft tone. “Do you want to come?”

When you didn’t answer, he frowned and shook the blankets again.

“Y/n?” He asked. “Are you awake?”

Sam furrowed his eyebrows and pulled your blankets down. He saw that you weren’t in the bed and retreated back to the living room.

“She’s not in her bed guys.” Sam announced when he got back to the boys. “Did she get up already?”

“I haven’t seen her.” Tuwaine shrugged.

“Did you check on Tom?” Harrison asked.

“I was just about to.” Sam answered.

“Should we all run in there and scream?” Harry said while rubbing his hands together.

“Why would we do that?” Harrison asked.

“To piss him off.” Harry said like it was obvious.

“Yeah.” Harrison nodded in agreement. “Okay.”

The rest of the boys got up but Tuwaine stopped them before they could go through with the plan.

“We can’t do that.” Tuwaine shook his head.

“Why not?” Harry asked.

“We need him to pay.” Tuwaine reminded them.

“He’s right.” Harrison said. “I’ll go in there and wake him up.”

Harrison went ahead of the group and went into Tom’s room. When he opened the door, he saw you asleep in Tom’s bed. Even with Tom’s arms wrapped around you, it was apparent that neither of you were wearing clothes. Harrison caught sight of the splatter of hickeys covering your neck and his eyes widened. He quietly backed out of the room and went back to the boys.

“Is he awake?” Harry asked him.

“Um, see for yourself.” Harrison gestured to the door. Harry gave him a strange look before going into Tom’s room. He saw exactly what Harrison saw, also catching sight of your discarded clothes on the floor. He quickly shut the door and ran back to Harrison.

“Dude.” He said as he pointed to Tom’s room.

“I know.” Harrison nodded. Harry thought about what might have happened between the two of you and his eyes bulged.

“Dude!” He whispered harshly.

“I know!” Harrison matched his tone. “What’s going on in there?”

“What are you guys talking about?” Tuwaine asked them. They both silently pointed to Tom’s door in response. Tuwaine went into the room and came back shortly with a shocked expression.

“Dudes.” He said softly.

“We know.” Harry and Harrison said in unison.

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked. “Is he awake?”

“Uh, I wouldn’t go in there.” Harry stopped Sam before he could go into Tom’s room.

“Is he sick?” Sam wondered.

“Let’s just say, uh, the British are coming.” Harry answered.

“What?”

“I think they already came.” Harrison mumbled under his breath.

“What? What are you talking about?” Sam looked between the boys in confusion. No one wanted to be the one to tell him, so they all stepped aside and gestured to Tom’s door. Sam gave them a look before opening Tom’s door. He immediately tripped on Tom’s boxers by the door. His eyes went up the trail of clothes leading up to the bed, where he saw you and his brother tangled together. Tom stirred a little in his sleep and kissed your shoulder, making you smile in your sleep. Sam felt all the color drain from his face and before he knew it, he was screaming.

“AHHH.” He screamed, instantly waking you and Tom up. You both shot up in bed and screamed back.

“AHHHH.” You and Tom screamed in surprise.

“AHHHHH.” Sam screamed back and smacked his hands over his eyes. The rest of the boys rushed into the room when he heard the commotion.

“Whats all the screaming about?” Harry asked before his eyes fell on you.

“Woah, tiddies.” He chuckled as he pointed a finger at you. Tom quickly covered you with his hands and glared at Harry.

“Everyone out now!” Tom commanded. “We - we’re doing laundry!”

“I’m seeing an alarming lack of clothes for people doing laundry.” Harry snickered. Sam looked at him in horror for making light of the situation.

“Get out!” Tom said again. The boys scrambled to the door, knocking and tripping over each other as they went.

“Sorry!” Harry called as he shut the door behind him. You and Tom caught your breath once silence settled back into the room. You looked at each other in a panic as your heart rates returned to a steady rhythm.

“Do you think they saw us?” Tom asked you after a beat of silence. You looked at him for a long time as flashes of all the screaming played back in your mind.

“Yes, I think they saw us.” You replied.

“Oh no.” Tom groaned. “They’re gonna know.”

“Maybe not.” You shrugged helplessly. “Maybe they think we were just doing karate or something.”

“Darling, I don’t think they’re gonna think we were doing karate.” Tom chuckled as he brushed his thumb over your series of hickeys. You laughed as well as you took his hand off your shoulder and kissed the back of it.

Elsewhere, the boys were trying to process what they just witnessed in the living room.

“What just happened?” Harrison asked the group.

“They were just sleeping.” Sam said quickly. “They probably fell asleep watching a movie or something.”

“Naked though?” Tuwaine raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t think they were naked.” Sam’s eyes darted around as he lied.

“No. They were.” Harrison concurred. “I definitely saw some peen.”

“I saw boobs, so,” Harry shrugged. “I’m happy.”

“What do you think they were doing in there?” Tuwaine wondered.

“Definitely not laundry.” Harry muttered.

“Hm. Let’s think. What were two adults doing naked in a bed together?” Harrison asked sarcastically.

“Karate?” Sam suggested weakly. The rest of the boys looked at him, their silence deafening.

Back in Tom’s room, you tried to come up with a plan.

“What should we do?” You asked him. “Is it safe to go out there?”

“Let’s give them a minute to process it. I don’t want to get asked a million questions right now. I just want to stay here with you.” Tom said and he picked up your hand to hold it.

“I wanna stay here too.” You mumbled. With all the commotion of waking up, you had momentarily forgotten that you had sex for the first time last night. You leaned in to kiss him to thank him for a magical night. He immediately kissed you back, putting his hands on your face face to keep you close.

“I’m glad we did it. I’m less glad about being woken up by screams, but I’m glad it happened.” Tom chuckled as he stroked your cheek with his thumb.

“Me too.” You smiled softly. “I was really nervous, but now I’m just happy.”

“You were nervous?” Tom asked curiously.

“Yeah.” You said sheepishly. “I had no experience. I was scared I wouldn’t be any good.”

“Well, you were perfect.” He told you as he kissed your knuckles. “I’ve always thought you were perfect.”

You smiled and cupped his face to kiss him again. You kissed him multiple times before moving to press kissed all over his face.

“I’m so happy.” You beamed. “I’ve never been this happy.”

“Me either, darling.” He matched your grin. “I love you.”

You kissed him again and pulled him into a hug.

“I love you more.”

In the living room, the boys were standing around, impatiently waiting for you and Tom.

“Why haven’t they come out yet?” Sam whined as he paced around the room.

“Round two, perhaps?” Harry joked, giving Harrison a nudge.

“You seriously think they hooked up?” Harrison asked him. “That’s kinda bold for them.”

“Is it? You know how close they are.” Tuwaine shrugged. “Tom must have seduced her and lead her to his bed chambers.”

“Under our roof?” Sam gasped. “With us in the house? Those whores.”

“I mean, I personally saw this coming.” Harry raised his hand. “It was only a matter of time.”

Everyone else nodded, which caught Sam’s attention.

“You guys saw this coming?” He asked sadly.

“Yeah. It was pretty obvious they liked each other. And with all of us living together, some hanky panky is bound to happen.” Tuwaine explained. Sam stopped pacing and looked down at the ground.

“I just didn’t think she liked him back.” He mumbled.

“Maybe she doesn’t.” Harrison suggested. “Maybe she just wanted to get off and he was there.”

“I was there too.” Sam shrugged. “We all were.”

“Yeah, but, she picked him.” Harry stated. “Can’t blame her. I’d shag a superhero too if given the chance.”

“Have none of you ever heard the word “sex” before or…” Tuwaine said under his breath.

“Wait, shhh.” Harrison hushed the crowd “They’re coming.”

Tom sheepishly padded into the room, fully dressed now. His hair was sticking up in every single direction, worse then his usual bed head. His pajama shirt did little to hide the love bites on his jawline, and absolutely nothing could hide the grin on his face.

“Hello everyone.” He said, bowing a little to the crowd.

“Good morning.” Harrison smirked. “How’d you sleep?”

“Or did you not get much?” Harry quipped. Tom shot him another look and dropped his smile.

“I slept fine.” He rolled his eyes. “What did you guys see?”

“More of you than I ever wanted to.” Harry began. “But as much of her as I wanted.”

“Don’t be a div.” Tom smacked the back of his brothers head.

“You’re the div.” Harry insisted. “Who doesn’t lock the door?”

“It’s not our fault. We didn’t know it was gonna happen.” Tom replied.

“What did happen?” Sam asked wearily. Tom looked around at the group and saw everyone leaning in to find out more. He wanted to keep the sweetness of your relationship to himself for a little longer, but he knew was was caught.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but we had sex last night.” Tom said slowly. The group fell silent, then erupted into applause.

“All right.” Harrison cheered and shook Toms shoulders.

“It’s about time.” Harry clapped him on the back as well.

“Was it good?” Tuwaine inquired.

“Did she peg you?” Harry asked.

“Where is she now?” Sam spoke above the crowd.

“She’s bloody embarrassed after you all woke us up screaming.” Tom said with annoyance. “She didn’t want to come down.”

Everyone nodded, understanding where you were coming from.

Tom looked around the room before muttering, “Also, she can’t walk.”

Excited murders came from Harry, Harrison, and Tuwaine while Sam groaned.

“Oh my God.” Sam gagged. “I’m gonna be sick.”

Not wanting to hear anymore, he left the room and went to sulk in his own bedroom.

“Whats his problem?” Tom asked once his brother had left.

“Not sure.” Harry shrugged. “The rest of you are happy for you though. I don’t think any of us thought you had the balls to go for it.”

“Well I do.” Tom folded his arms. “Y/n can vouch for me.”

No one liked that joke as much as Tom did, and it showed in everyone’s faces. The room fell silent as Tom stood there, proud of what he had said.

“Don’t be gross, man.” Tuwaine mumbled.

Suddenly, you walked into the room wearing Toms shirt from the night before. You had sleep shorts sticking out under the shirt, barely hiding the hickies littered on your thighs. Tom caught sight of them and flushed, adverting his eyes to calm himself down.

“Good morning.” You said quietly. You stood next to Tom and wrapped your arm around his, feeling particularly clingy this morning.

“There she is.” Harrison clapped. “The girl of the hour.”

“How are you, beautiful?” Harry asked you. “Do you need anything? Water? Breakfast?”

“Plan B?” Harrison said in the same cheery tone.

“Shut up.” Tom snapped.

“Actually, I could use some water.” You laughed softly.

“I’ll get it!” Harry and Harrison said in unison as the ran to the kitchen. You could hear them fighting over a water bottle in the kitchen and looked to Tom for answers.

“Whats up with them?” You wondered.

“They saw your tits.” Tuwaine said timidly. “You could hit them with your car and they’d be okay with it.”

“Interesting.” You chuckled.

“Not interesting. Unacceptable.” Tom grumbled with jealously. “And I will definitely be hitting them with my car.”

“Don’t.” You rubbed his arm soothingly. “Let’s just have a nice day. No vehicular man slaughter.”

“Okay.” Tom smiled at you and kissed your forehead. At that moment, Harry and Harrison ran back into the room with water bottles in hand.

“Here you go.” Harry said as he presented you with a water bottle.

“Mines better.” Harrison smacked the bottle out of Harry’s hand and held his out. “It’s colder.”

You laughed and took Harrison’s water bottle with a grateful smile.

“Thank you.” You said before taking a long sip. You didn’t realize how dry your mouth was until you got some water.

“Do you need any?” You asked Tom, and he nodded.

“Yeah. Thanks, love.” He said before opening his mouth. You poured some water in, smiling as it ran down the love bites on his neck.

“Ew.” Harry scrunched up his nose when he saw this. You used the hem of your shirt to wipe Toms face free of water. He smiled gratefully before leaning down to kiss you.

“So, are you guys together or what?” Harry wondered. “Because if you just wanted to sleep with a Holland brother, might I suggest m-“

“Shut up.” Tom cut him off. “We’re together. We’ve been together for a few weeks now.”

“Really?” Tuwaine asked. “How come you didn’t tell us?”

“We were planning on telling you guys soon.” You said. “Just not like this.”

“None of us could have planned for this.” Tuwaine agreed.

“I’m happy for you guys though.” Harrison piped up. “I think you make a good couple.”

“Thank you.” Tom smiled proudly as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders.

“Just, you know, lock the door next time.” He continued.

“Trust me.” You sighed and patted Toms chest. “We will.”

You looked around suddenly and noticed one of your housemates was missing.

“Where’s Sam?” You wondered.

“Probably crying in the other room.” Harrison chuckled.

“Crying?” Tom furrowed his eyebrows. “Why?”

Harry and Harrison exchanged a look, neither wanted to be the one who broke the news.

“You should probably go talk to him.” Harry said. Tom looked at you curiously before nodding.

“I’ll be right back.” He told the group before leaving the room.

Tom found Sam in his bedroom, blankly staring at the wall. He shut the door behind him, making Sam jump a little.

“Mate, what’s going on with you? Is everything okay?” Tom asked. Sam looked at him for minute before looking down at his hands.

“I can’t believe you slept with Y/n.” He mumbled.

“Why?” Tom wondered. “You guys tease us all the time about how close we are. I thought you’d all see this coming.”

“I didn’t. I didn’t think you two would ever actually do something.” Sam sighed. “What even was last night? Was it a one night stand or…”

“Well, we’ve kinda been dating.” Tom said slowly. “Not for very long, though. We both agreed we wanted to be more than friends and I don’t know. Things just kinda happened from there.”

“Why didn’t you tell any of us?” Sam asked. “We live together, for Christ’s sake.”

“Because, I don’t know.” Tom shrugged. “I didn’t want anyone to know yet. It was just our little secret. Haven’t you ever had a secret?”

Sam opened his mouth and quickly shut it, feeling the irony of Tom’s question hit him. He didn’t want to lie to his brother, so he let out a sigh.

“I like her.” He said, barely audible but Tom heard.

“What?”

“That’s my secret. I like her.” Sam looked up. “I’ve liked her ever since we met. And now you…you ruined it.”

“What?” Tom repeated. “I didn’t ruin anything.”

“My older brother slept with the girl I liked.” Sam said fully. “That kinda ruins things for me, mate.”

“I slept with my girlfriend.” Tom corrected. “And it was a big deal for us, so don’t rain all over it.”

“It’s a big deal for me too.” Sam insisted. “I really liked her.”

Tom was about to raise his voice, but decided against it. He knew better than anyone that you could not help who you fell in love with. He knew that if he was in Sam’s shoes, he’d be just as upset.

“Look, I’m sorry your feelings are hurt.” Tom said as he sat down next to Sam. “I didn’t know you liked her. But you never said anything about it. How was I supposed to know?”

“Would it have changed anything if you did know?” Sam asked quietly. Tom though about it for a moment before he gave his reply.

“Honestly, no.” Tom answered. “I love her. Nothing would��ve changed my mind.”

Sam stayed silent, not happy with this answer.

“Would anything have changed your mind?” Tom asked. “Would you have stopped liking her if you knew I did as well?”

“No.” Sam realized. “I guess I wouldn’t.”

“So do you understand now?” Tom hoped. “I didn’t do this to hurt you. I love her. This was always about her.”

“I guess.” Sam huffed. “It still sucks for me, though.”

“Yeah.” Tom chuckled. “It does. But you still get to be her friend. And she still loves you. Just, you know, like a brother.”

“I wish it was different.” He mumbled. “I’ll get over it. But for now, I really wish it was different.”

Tom looked at his brother and sighed. He knew this wasn’t the kind of problem he could fix. Tom definitely wasn’t the person Sam wanted to be around right now. He patted his brothers shoulder and left the room, going to find you for help.

A few hours later, you spotted Sam sitting alone on the couch. He was staring at the wall, seemingly a little out of it.

“Hey, Sam.” You smiled at him as you took a seat next to him. He broke out of his trance to look at you, giving you a weak smile back.

“Hi.” Sam said timidly.

“What’s going on?” You asked as you pushed his shoulder playfully.

“Tom told you?” Sam knew right away.

“Yeah.” You gave him a sad smile. “He told me.”

Sam stayed quiet, feeling his cheeks flush with embarrassment. You noticed this and put a cold hand on his face.

“You know I love you, right?” You said softly. “So much, Sammy.”

Sam nodded and looked down at his clasped hands.

“But not like that?” He asked wearily. You folded your lips in and nodded a little.

“But not like that.” You repeated. He looked up, but not at you. You put your hands on top of his and gave them a gentle squeeze.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered.

“It’s not your fault.” He said. “We can’t help what we don’t feel.”

“I guess not.” You agreed. Sam nodded again, not trusting his voice enough to speak.

“For what it’s worth, you’ve always been my favorite brother.” You told him honestly. He finally looked at you and smiled a little.

“I won’t tell Harry.” He told you, assuming he meant favorite of the twins.

“Or Tom or Paddy.” You added. “It’ll be our little secret. Can you keep a secret?”

Your words caused Sam to think of all the times he wanted to tell you he liked you, but didn’t. He briefly wondered if things would be different had you known.

“Yeah.” He smiled sadly. “I can.”

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[silver-weasel]

Diving (Deku x Reader)

Pairing : Deku x fem!reader (aged-up characters)

Rating : E, 18+

Tags : smut • fem!reader (she/her) • best friends to lovers / childhood friends to lovers • quirkless AU • p*rn with feelings (like. a lot of them) • public sex (more or less) • switching • hair pulling? • pining • Deku being flustered and an absolute angel what’s new • Reader being a teasing brat • It’s all soft and fluffy, I’m as vanilla as you can get 🤷‍♀️ • Happy birthday to the bestest boyyy I love him so much it hurts

Word count : 10 600 (Holy sh—)

A/N : Thank you @hoe-doroki my beloved and savior for beta-ing <3

Written for @rat-zuki​’s collab in honor of our favorite birthday boy, The Deku Agenda Escapes no One. Thank you so much for letting me join! (go check out the other amazing writers and artists!)

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

The ground grinds repeatedly under your hiking shoes, some pebbles being kicked forward on your way. You’re way too deep in the forest to hear any cars passing by and during the two hours you’ve been here you haven’t run into anyone. The place seems empty, the only souls breathing the forest’s thick air being you, Izuku and the birds chirping all around you.

The afternoon is coming to an end, the sun sinking down on its way to hide behind the mountains. The remains of its soft light are filtering through the dense leaves all around and above you. You’re surrounded by green, lush and immeasurable greenery, every plant merging into another.

You’ve left the marked paths, now wandering deep in the richest, boundless part of a forest you both know like the back of your hand after roaming it all over innumerable times. All over, except for this part, in which you’re setting foot for the first time today. Your many previous hiking sessions were shortened by your questionable sense of organization, always arriving too late to explore further into the unknown.

Leaves brush against your knees with every single step you take as you follow Izuku on his heels. He’s moving at a steady pace, his hands holding tight the straps of his yellow backpack that he’s had for as long as you can remember. He’s always so organized, has everything you two could eventually need and generally never do. Two huge flasks of water, an entire meal he calls ‘little snacks’, with sandwiches, fruits, protein bars, even hard-boiled eggs. A first-aid kit with disinfectant, bandages, scissors and painkillers. Hell, you’re even wondering if he has any pads for you in there, in case of an unexpected period. You wouldn’t be surprised if he did.

You giggle lightly when you see him stumble for the sixth time since you got here; he can’t seem to keep his curious eyes from drifting up and around, looking in every direction, probably retaining every detail and logging it in some impressive mental database of his. And he’s commenting on every little thing he sees too; he makes you notice things you never would have if it weren’t for his candid interest in everything.

“Oh! Look at that bird!” he exclaims, pointing at a branch over your heads. “Do you see it, right there, with the red mark!”

You turn your gaze to where he’s pointing and see a little bird, very cute, but so tiny you’re wondering how one could spot it without specifically looking for it. That’s probably what you like most about Izuku: his attention to detail. That’s the thing—nothing is too small for him, everything is worthy of interest. His eyes always light up with such curiosity, this child-like wonder and it was always one of your favorite things to witness growing up.

When he came over to your house at age six, he was always running around with some bug on his forearm, calling your name, yelling, “Look at this!”

Most of the time, it was a snail or a ladybug, and that always managed to catch your interest. Sometimes, it was a spider or a beetle, and he had you screaming in horror more than once, running to your mother’s legs with weeping eyes. Those times, he always watched you go with wide, sad eyes and a wobbly lip, because, “I would never hurt her, Mom! I swear I didn’t want to scare her!”

“Oh, yeah, I see it! It’s so cute!”

And it is cute, the way his huge green eyes go even rounder in amazement. You treasure these hikes for providing occasions to witness this. But as much as you wish this moment could last forever, the sun is beginning to set, you probably shouldn’t go deeper in the forest at sundown.

“We should probably head back to the car, Izuku. It’s gonna be dark soon.”

“Come on, it’s still so light—there’s no rush!” His lips crook a bit into an impish smile. “Scared that a bear is coming to get you?”

“There aren’t any bears here—we’ve been coming for five years.”

“Because if it’s the bears you’re afraid of,” he begins, ignoring you on purpose, “you know I’ll protect you, right?” he says, sticking out his chest like he’s some superhero.

“Against a bear? Right.”

“You’re underestimating me? That’s just mean.”

You chuckle at his antics, shooting him a look of yours that says, ‘Come on, please?’.

His eyes soften a bit, but he’s used to that look; it’s been years since it worked on him as well as you’d like it to.

“We can just keep going this way, then we’ll make a loop and head back to the car directly! It’ll be even shorter this way.”

“Alright, let’s do that,” you agree, and the smile it elicits from him makes something tingle deep in your stomach.

You move forward again, sinking deeper within the forest. It’s becoming harder and harder to walk, brambly branches and huge leaves blocking your way more and more with every step.

You’re a bit ahead of him when you catch sight of a sparkle behind the bushes. Just a glimpse of light, but you’re positive you saw it. Is there water here? You never really looked at a map of the place before—you just always went wherever you felt like and used the same tracks on the way back. You hurry up a bit, curious eyes fixed on that glimmer of light.

Soon enough the dense greenery comes to an end, and you’re finally out of the bushes, finding your way into a little clearing. You’re standing, speechless, in front of a pond: it’s about forty feet wide, catching the last rays of sunshine in a dazzling reflection. The water is surrounded by gigantic trees big enough to be home to an entire niche of biodiversity, and a half-sandy, half-stony shore with reeds rising from the water on both sides.

It’s all calm and quiet and massive trees, branches pouring, cascading above still water. The air feels cool, filled with a pure smell of dew and spring even though it’s the end of a hot day of July.

Izuku is close behind you and lets out a very cute, “Whoa,” ditching his backpack on the ground next to you in the middle of the cove. The both of you just stand there for a moment in complete silence, aside from the birds chirping. Izuku breaks it first:

“How come we’ve never seen this before? This place is amazing.” He sounds distant as he speaks, soaking up his surroundings like he always does.

“I guess you never know everything about anything,” you say mindlessly, without detaching your gaze of the wonderful view ahead.

He’s standing close to you, very close. You’re only noticing now that you’re coming down from the high of your discovery. Your arms are brushing, you can feel his body heat from how close you two are. It wouldn’t be the first time; you’re no stranger to being physically close to Izuku. You’ve been playing together since you were able to put one foot in front of the other. And you wish you could say it feels any different right now, but that would be a lie. Being close to him always felt the same. Always felt like the only easy thing in your life. The only constant.

Yet it’s not enough. No matter how close, it’s never enough, it never was. You hate yourself for feeling that way; you’ve never been the greedy, unsatisfied type. You have everything with Izuku. Well, almost everything.

But right now this place—this very quiet, beautiful place with no one in sight is doing things to your fertile imagination. Despite the sun just beginning to set, the summer air still remains thick with heat. You find yourself staring in the abyss of that water, admiring the masterpiece of a reflection on the surface, a painting of leaves and clouds and blue sky. It calls you, sings an irresistible song of fresh water on sweaty skin and strong, freckled arms wrapped around you.

You don’t know if the slight, insignificant detail that you would have to undress in order to dive into that water—since you didn’t bring a swimsuit—is a better reason to do it or to refrain from doing so.

You’ve lost count of how many moments you’ve shared with him just like this one. So many chances for you to take. You never have.

Back to the original issue: can you see yourself walk out of that clearing the way you always do? Can you see yourself going home, adding this missed chance to your growing collection of lost memories, of hands within your reach that you chose not to take?

The answer pops in your mind, crystal clear for the first time since you met him.

You drop your bag on the ground, turning to Izuku with a delighted expression stretching your features. The look on your face reminds him of one he’d seen on you as a kid, bouncing on the balls of your feet in front of the ice cream truck. At this moment he just knows you’ve got some stupid shenanigan in mind, like you always do. Once again, he isn’t wrong.

“Wanna take a dip?” You’re squinting at him from his side, a mischievous smile lighting up your face.

“I-I didn’t bring a swimsuit,” he stutters.

It’s been a long time since he last stuttered in front of you. He got rid of it years ago, but it still resurfaces sometimes in front of intimidating strangers or in a socially uncomfortable situation. Never in front of you, though.

“Me neither,” you answer plainly with that same impish smile, and his eyes go round at your implications.

“Wait, you can’t be—Oh my God—”

His heart does a great flip in his chest when he catches you taking the hem of your shirt up over your head. In less than five seconds, you’ve got him scorching hot, feverish and suddenly he can’t tell right from left.

His reflex is to bury his face in his hands. He respects you too much to take a peek, but you’re making things very difficult for him. He can hear you move towards the water, can hear the thump of your forgotten shoes hitting the ground one after the other, can hear the soft pad of your naked feet on the rocks.

“For the love of God, please, put it back on…” 

“What? Look at this view, it would be a shame not to make the most of it!”

He’s not looking at the view right now, he can’t let himself. He knows very well he won’t be able to focus on the trees when you’re standing pretty much naked—although he’s not sure to what extent—in front of him. You could be entirely naked right now and he wouldn’t be able to tell, his burning face still hidden in his shaking hands. His voice comes out muffled when he stammers, “I-It’s starting to get late, we really should get back to the car…”

“What, you’re scared of the bears?”

He can’t see you, but he knows you’re sporting that smug grin of yours, the one he first saw when you showed him your impressive collection of Pokémon cards on your preschool’s playground. You’ll have to take a lingering silence for an answer.

“Izuku, come on. I don’t bite.”

He’s not entirely sure the sight of you won’t gnaw him to the bone, won’t melt his entire body down and leave him a hot mess. He won’t be a man anymore, just a walking flame fueled by the heavenly sight of you. No, he can’t let himself fall into that. Obviously you don’t know what you’re doing to him.

Nevertheless, you’re probably the most stubborn person he knows. And he’s friends with Katsuki Bakugou, for God’s sake. He won’t be able to get out of this as easily as he wants, especially as he hears the delicate noise of water splitting at your feet as you enter the little pond.

He slowly moves his hands off of his face. You must have your back turned to him, so maybe he can drift his eyes off somewhere—

You are in front of him, thigh deep in the water now. In nothing but your panties. Your white, flower-patterned lace panties that are doing a very bad job at covering your backside. He lets out a long, pained whine, standing in the middle of the little shore with his arms dangling down his sides, not sure what to do with them.

“Why didn’t you at least keep your bra on?” His voice comes out way more wobbly than he intended to.

You turn a little so you can look at him, and it takes every little bit of strength he’s got left to look you in the eye. But as you’re turning around, the smooth curve of your breast starts showing, and God, is that your nipple?

He wants a giant hole to swallow him right now. He wants some forest creature to come for him right this instant, anything to keep him away from you, keep him from doing things he might regret. To punish him for having such thoughts about you, because you trust him, you’re so oblivious, so innocent, and he’s so weak against this inner monster that’s eating him away.

With a little frown, you deliver the answer like it’s self-evident as you kneel into the water, the surface just above your chest:

“I didn’t want it to get wet.”

“But you’re okay with your panties getting wet?”

The realization of what he just said is slow but surely comes. And when it does, he wishes even harder to get erased from the surface of this planet he’s already lucky enough to share with you. There is a long silence, and all he can hear for a few seconds are the birds chirping and the violent pounding of his heart against his ribcage, straining to get out.

You turn back around to look at him, dumbstruck. 

“I’m more than okay with that—”

“Please forget I just said that,” he cuts you off. He’s not sure he can bear to hear more of this.

“I’m never forgetting you said that. It’s pure gold,” you scoff.

He can only answer with a drawn-out whine. He doesn’t have any choice in this, does he?

When you dive in the water, he takes both his shaking hands to the hem of his shirt and starts undressing.

What the fuck am I doing?

The water is so pure you can see underwater as clear as day: the few rocks at the bottom, the little silvery fish all around you, and the last rays of sunlight permeating through the calm surface above your head. The water feels a bit cold on your naked skin since the sunlight and summer heat must only hit the clearing at certain hours of the day. Still, the cold water isn’t enough to clear your foggy mind.

What was I thinking?

You’ve always been a bashful person, why is it changing all of a sudden? Maybe it’s the devastating effect Izuku has on you.

You try to calm down a bit, taking a deep breath. So, you’re pretty much naked in front of him. Well, it definitely wouldn’t be the first time, and it (probably) won’t be the last. Now you just have to go through with your stupid idea. It’s no big deal, it’s only Izuku. Only Izuku.

Only Izuku.

Fuck.

You finally surface, not only because you can’t hide underwater forever, but also because, surprisingly, you’re not a fish, you have to actually breathe.

You push your dripping hair to the back of your head, still careful to keep your breasts under the water. Izuku’s already in to his hips when you turn around to look at him, your vision still blurry from the water trickling all over your face. He’s merciless, standing like that, only the elastic of his boxers peeking out of the water. You’re a bit surprised by the plain, black color. You were expecting something along the lines of blue, yellow and red. Izuku is full of surprises.

But nevermind the color of his underwear—what you find just above is mesmerizing. Your indiscreet, incorrigible gaze can’t help following the thin trail of hair tracing up to his navel, then the stunning lines of his abs, partly hidden behind his freckled forearms shyly crossed over them. The freckles spread up his powerful arms, gently sunkissed, scattering all over his broad shoulders.

Is he actually hiding, though? Doesn’t he know he looks like he was carved by the gods themselves?

“Have you done this before?”

The sound of his voice startles you a bit. Ah, right. You were shamelessly staring. It takes you a couple of seconds to force your distracted mind back into focus. “Done what?”

“Skinny dipping?”

“No, it’s my first time. It looks like it’s yours too.” His big, bright eyes drift around like they don’t know where to look. It’s really cute.

“It is,” he admits, now kneeling into the water as well. “I would’ve thought you were used to this.” You arch a single eyebrow in an amused frown.

“What, do I look like I have a professional degree in skinny dipping?”

“No, it’s just…You look confident, it just seemed like it.”

Confident? You’re nowhere near confident—you’re terrified. You try to keep your cool, but it’s probably the first time you’re putting on an act in front of Izuku.

“Well, you’re not so bad at it yourself.” You don’t miss the little blush coating his cheeks at that. “Also, I’m not exactly naked.”

“You’re not exactly dressed either, that’s a...v-very small piece of clothing.” He’s blushing a bit harder, looking away.

“Oh, seems like you paid some attention to my piece of clothing then, good to know.”

Now he’s quite simply scarlet. A very cute, very hot, freckled tomato. He’s so easily flustered, it only makes you want to tease him some more.

“Were your legendary All Might boxers in the dirty hamper? That’s a shame. I’m a bit disappointed,” you say in a mockingly innocent voice.

He doesn’t retort, simply stands there on his knees, shooting you an unreadable look and a little pout. After a few seconds, you open your mouth to continue, only to be startled by a strong splash hitting you in the face.

When you snap out of your shock, hair and face dripping all over your shoulders, you look up at him with what must be the scariest look of betrayal. Or the most ridiculous, apparently, since he starts laughing, louder and louder, and can’t seem to stop.

“Oh, you’re pretty pleased with yourself right now, aren’t you?” You can’t help but chuckle while talking, his laugh is so contagious.

“I am, yeah!” he manages to articulate, only starting to calm down.

As the calm of the forest returns, you watch his eyes go back to their usual round shape bit by bit, his face relaxing again. His smile causes butterflies to fly up and around in a whirlwind deep into your belly. You chuckle a bit at the feeling, almost embarrassed by how he’s making you feel like you’re in some dumb, cliche rom-com movie. On the outside, you must look a bit like a maniac, but he’s a nice guy, so he simply asks, “What is it?”

And before you can overthink yourself out of it, you’re hurling yourself at him. He barely has the chance to stutter a weak, “Wait!” before you’re putting all your weight on him, sinking his head deep in the water. Izuku may well be a nice guy, but you know he isn’t going to let you get away with this, so you’re not surprised when you’re dragged underwater by your legs. He lets go immediately, a bit abruptly, even, like it burnt his hands to touch you.

You both emerge from the water soon, and it takes you a second to get rid of the water blurring your vision, but then it hits you. How tantalizingly close you are to each other now, your bodies an inch away from touching. You’re both on your knees, enveloped in the coolness of crystal clear water and the reflections of the canopy of leaves above your heads. A spark of electricity makes you freeze on the spot; you’re so close to him your breasts slightly brush against his chest.

After a little eternity, you find the courage to look up at his face. He looks mindblowing, really. Despite the two decades you spent together, you’re not sure you’ve ever seen the pure, astonishing details of his freckles from this close. You would remember it, you definitely would. It’s a spectacular view, one of those visual memories that comes back to hit you in flashes. His nose and cheekbones are covered in them, drawing a mesmerizing pattern, more complex than the Milky Way itself. They’re an uncrackable equation, like a weird quirk of nature that you’ll never understand but don’t question anyway. They spread a little more scattered, but still very present, up to his forehead and down to his delicate jaw.

And his eyes—you could just drown in them. There’s this bright, blinding light there that feels like laying in the grass and looking up at the sunlight coating the leaves of this tree, the one you grew up near and always played under.

You swear you didn’t move, neither did he, and still you manage to get even closer to him. Now it’s you against the inexorable attraction that pulls you towards him like a fierce magnet. And it’s a losing battle, you think, as you’re both entering each other’s personal space like you share just one.

There’s nothing friendly about the way he can’t look you in the eye, seemingly too obsessed with your lips. You drop your gaze to his and find them calling for you. It’s been so long, now the thought of kissing Izuku seems unfamiliar despite being ever-present in your imagination for so many years. Like repeating a word so much it ends up becoming a series of meaningless sounds to your confused mind.

He’s the one who finally closes the distance, his lips landing on yours so softly you can barely feel them. He doesn’t move, simply content with the contact. You’re both eight years old again for a minute. The kiss feels like the little peck a kid would finally give to his crush in the middle of their school’s playground before running away to his friends.

Time seems to stop for God knows how long, and after what feels like no time and forever all at once, his lips move hesitantly against yours, bringing you back to reality. Right then, it all crashes on you like a tremendous wave. The distant echo of your mothers’ voices from the kitchen and the stupid cartoons they made you watch so they could talk for ten more minutes. The games alone together because no one wanted to play with you two weirdos. The piggyback rides, the dumb jokes, the video games (you always won). The neverending texting sessions at night because one of you couldn’t sleep. The fights that never lasted long enough to see the next sunrise because you both are way too weak for each other. All those stupid places that wouldn’t have looked half as breathtaking if it weren’t for him.

His lips are soft but roughly bitten. Hot and wet from the water and maybe from something else. He doesn’t taste like anything other than home, and that’s more than enough for you. His hands went up to cup your face at some point, but you’re too drowned in all the feelings coming up to the surface to pay attention to anything other than his soft mouth pressing on yours, more and more, opening up—

And it’s already over. You only notice that you’ve closed your eyes when you open them again when you don’t feel anything against your mouth other than the summer air. When your mind manages to regain any sense of function, the blurry focus of your gaze settles on his eyes. Wide open. Pupils eating up the dazzling viridian that puts the forest to shame. And a terrified expression in them.

He’s looking at you like he hurt you. His lips should still be on yours, kissing and sucking, not frozen like they are right now, obviously trying to express something painful as a few weak sounds pass their barrier before he finally manages to speak:

“Oh—Oh my God, I-I’m s—”

You don’t let him finish his stupid sentence. You don’t think twice before you take his face in your hands and lean in to kiss him again, with shameless intent this time. No more pretending—you’ve been waiting long enough for this and apparently, so has he.

It’s nothing gentle this time when your mouths crash against each other, teeth clashing and lips bruising under the weight of twenty years. You hold to his face like a lifeline, fingers sinking just a bit into his cheekbones, the tip of your nails getting caught in the knots of his dripping hair just above his ears. It’s messy, your noses rubbing before he angles his face better. One of his hands loops around your waist in a tight grip, forcing your chest to crush against his, the other burying in your hair at the base of your skull.

The feeling is electrifying, indescribable. It’s nothing like the pale, miserable depiction of your imagination. It’s discovering life in color when all you’ve always known was black and white.

The water is cool, but his body scorches against yours, burns your skin in the most exquisite way. The kiss is desperate on both parts, but neither of you is confident. His lips suck on yours with tentative motions, and you respond in kind the best you can. They are hungry, starving for flesh but don’t know how to hunt.

Your hands are gripping more and more of his hair, pulling harder, sending waves of heat all the way down his groin, and he’s not sure he can hide the bulge growing there for much longer.

He has to be sure, he has to be absolutely certain you want this as much as he does, because once he starts, he may not be able to stop. But you feel so good, all pressed against him. Your skin feels so soft under his hand at the small of your back he has to dig his nails in the skin of your waist so he doesn’t cross a line. But the curve just above your ass is begging for him to grip at the tender flesh and squeeze, fill his hands with it. He’s been dreaming about this for so long.

No, he can’t just hurl himself at you like a hunting wolf the first chance he gets—what kind of friend does that?

It takes him every bit of focus he has left to break the kiss, to part away from you. You have to discuss this, he can’t just throw away twenty years of friendship! Now you’re looking up at him with puppy eyes saying, ‘Why won’t you play with me?’ He breathes out a shaky sigh, and begins:

“Um, look. Believe me when I say I’ve wanted this for a very, very long time, and I love you so, so much. As a friend, I mean.” He sees you frown at this, catches a glint of something he doesn’t like in your eyes, then panics. “No, no, no, I mean, a-as a friend, but also more than that, o-obviously. But I don’t know what you want, you might be...d-disappointed, or...um—” His face starts heating up like it hasn’t in ages. He takes another breath, tries to clear up the muddled mess happening in his head. “Look, I just want the best for you, but you look...good, very good, and you’re making things very difficult for me, doing...this—”

“Izuku.” The deafening hubbub filling his mind falls suddenly silent, your voice a comforting, steady rock for him to cling to when his mind is storming out of control.

“Yeah?”

You get even closer to him, since he gradually set some distance while mumbling his anxious thoughts out again. You cup his face in your hands, a gentle, featherlight touch, and look up at him with determination in your eyes. You pull his head down a bit to settle on yours, your foreheads and noses connected, never breaking eye contact. Your lips graze over his, both your breaths mixing there, your voice a quiet whisper as you speak again. “Do you want me?”

Out of the jittery mess of his mind, the answer comes out like evidence, plain and simple: “Yes.”

“Then shut up and kiss me.”

You take action immediately, kissing him once again and this time he doesn’t hesitate to put his—still rather shaky—hands on you. The feeling of you is addicting, pushing his insecurities further in the back of his mind. He starts at your waist, running his thumbs there, feeling the goosebumps rising on your skin. They wander up your spine, counting every single bump of your bones, all the way to your nape. Then dragging them back down to settle on your hips, his fingers digging in the soft flesh. The little sigh you breathe on his lips causes an impressive amount of blood to run straight to his dick. 

Your mouth is distracting, dizzying, sucking on his bottom lip, nipping playfully. His tongue slides over your lips, then against your own when you open up immediately for him. You’re pressing against him even more, your breasts rubbing against his naked chest and he swears you’re going to be the death of him. You’re hanging from his shoulders by now, your arms circling his neck, still gripping a handful of green hair, pulling. You have to stop doing this—he might cum right away. He doesn’t say it aloud, only lets a moan escape him into your mouth.

He wanted this, wanted this for so long, and now that it’s real, it’s beyond everything he could have imagined. The heat of your skin, the weight on his shoulders as you cling to him, your breath in his mouth, your little sighs.

He’s only now noticing that his hands have gone to reach their destination with a mind of their own. They’re on your ass underwater, feeling the white, wet lace, the sole cloth on your entire body—that thing is just there to tempt him. He’s unsure if you like what he’s doing until you release a whimper, louder this time, enough to send a vibration against his mouth (and straight to his cock at the same time).

Suddenly, he wants to taste a lot more of you. You’re all open up to him for the first time—he has to. He trails a series of open-mouthed kisses from the corner of your mouth to your jaw, savoring every little sigh escaping your lips, then to your neck, dragging his tongue up the column of your throat.

The water is fresh all over you, and he doesn’t miss the shivers running up and down your skin at the contact of the twilight breeze. He needs to warm you up, needs to make you feel good, needs everything to be perfect for you. With his hands still on your ass, he trails lower down to your collarbone, allowing some occasional nips on the way that have you shaking. He freezes, looking up at you from there.

“Is this okay?”

The answer comes out breathy, a little desperate: “Yes, yes, please!” It sends a wave of heat all over him, the way you like what he’s doing to you, the way he’s making you feel good.

He’s not experienced or anything, only had a few hookups a couple of times, so he’s not very confident in his capacities, aside from running his hands all over you because that’s how his instincts are manifesting. You know him better than anyone—of course you would know how lost he could be in this kind of situation. But he also knows you’re not much more experienced than him, and that thought is comforting.

He’s experienced in one thing, though. He feels like the worst, filthiest person on the planet for this, but it’s astonishing the number of times he jerked off to the thought of what’s happening right now. How many times did he fuck his hand in the shower thinking about the water trickling down your skin, about licking it off your breasts all the way up to your neck.

So he does what he’s been dying to do for years. your breasts are just above the surface, so he sits on his heels and licks down your chest. When his tongue finally reaches your nipple, giving it a tentative lick, you let out a gasp, encouraging him to get bolder. And he does, closing his mouth on it like it’s the sweetest lollipop; it’s all cold and hard and raised from the water, but it warms up really quickly against the furnace of his mouth. His right hand leaves your ass to cup the neglected other, running his thumb against the bud, squeezing the flesh. That’s when you reach out to bury a hand in his hair, and pull again. God, you can pull on his hair all day and night like this; he’ll never get enough.

His left hand, still on your ass, rises up to the small of your back, feeling you arching more and more, pushing against his mouth. A harder nip has you gasping and he lets his hands run all over you, wandering without direction. It’s messy and urgent; he can’t help it—you feel so good, so soft under his hands. He’s like a kid getting to open his Christmas gifts in the morning after an endless, sleepless night waiting for Santa.

You trail your hand down his chest and his abdomen, a gentle reminder that the power he holds right now could slip through his fingers any moment. He’s willing to give it to you, especially since he doesn’t really know what to do next.

Like you just read his mind, you take his hands in yours, stopping their chaotic race. He’s feeling himself flush a bit—was he going too fast for you? Did he scare you? Or did he just let himself become overwhelmed by his feelings and it didn’t feel good for you? His eyes are looking down directly at your naked chest, he realizes he never took a proper look at them, too busy throwing himself to taste them. They look just as good as they taste, as beautiful as the rest of you.

Tentatively, he raises his eyes to find your reassuring gaze and fond smile. You lead his hands down slowly, setting them on your hips, over the criminal lace fabric preserving your modesty. Your foreheads connect again, but you never break eye contact. Lacing your fingers together, you guide his thumbs into the elastic on both sides, and now that he gets what you’re trying to do, his mind just stops.

Your voice is barely a whisper, a mesmerizing caress on his lips when you speak again. “I think I’ve waited long enough, Zuku.”

Your tone is fond, but you sound so desperate, it’s unbearably cute. His mind fogs up, the smoke of your words filling his skull and he wants to drive you as mad as you drive him. Sure, you’ve waited a lot, but so has he. He isn’t going to rush this, not if he has any say in it.

He slides your panties down your thighs underwater inch by inch. It’s even too slow for him; right now he just wants to rip the stupid piece of lace off of you and fuck you and him both stupid in the water, hard and fast. But even more than that, he wants to take his time with you, wants to take you apart piece by piece. And the testy whine it elicits from you makes it all so worth it.

You shift a bit so he can take your underwear completely off and, in a second, it lays abandoned on the sandy ground of the shore. Just knowing you’re now completely naked in front of him, it sends boiling desire flowing through every single vein in his body. He can’t see that part of you yet, the water darkening along with the sky clouding his view beneath the surface, but nightfall can’t do anything about Izuku’s wild imagination. He’s dizzy, feeling himself slowly falling into a half-conscious daze, but you anchor him right where you are, bringing him back to the reality of your arms hooked around his neck.

He rests his hands on your hips, dragging his fingertips down the soft flesh of them. The idea of touching you down there is making his head spin, he can’t wait any longer.

“Can I—”

“Yes, I want your fingers inside me,” you say before driving your lips back against his.

Without further ado, one of them goes straight to your core, making you jump a bit, breaking the kiss just for a second. He runs his index between your folds, feeling hot slick already coming out of you despite the fresh water around. His touch is light, slow, hesitant as it glides up and down, testing the waters. He’s getting a bit further, putting a bit more pressure with every stroke and earning a few pleased sighs from your heavenly mouth.

He expected a sudden reaction as soon as he found your clit, but that doesn’t mean he was prepared for the drawn-out moan coming out of your gorgeous lips, wet from his mouth and from your dip earlier. He wants to hear that again, every day for the rest of his life. He drags his thumb over it, again and again, slow at first, but then quicker and quicker, and your voice grows louder with every speed-up of his finger.

Your hands go frantic over him, running up his chest and down his abs in repeated motions that feel a lot like it’s lust driving your limbs much more than your mind. You stopped kissing him at some point, your mouth too busy expressing every ounce of pleasure you felt to focus on such basic motions. Your face is buried in his neck, your hot breath crushing against his skin.

He presses his index inside, but he’s so focused on what he’s doing, trying not to hurt you, that he doesn’t notice the shift of your own hand leaning down until he feels it cupping the painful bulge in his boxers. His eyes go wide with a gasp, and when he looks at you, you already have a playful, but intense, gaze piercing right through him.

“Did you think I was gonna let you play all on your own, Zuku?” Your fingers graze over the soaked fabric, down his entire length and to his balls, throwing gasoline on the fire that’s been consuming him for ages. “Don’t be selfish,” you whisper directly in his ear as your hands slip his underwear down his thighs.

As soon as the piece of cloth gets to join your forgotten panties on the shore, you wrap your pretty hand around him. And when you start stroking, his eyes roll so hard he swears he can see the inside of his skull. It feels better than he ever could have imagined; it’s blistering, astonishing. The only idea his brain can manage to work out right now is that he wants you to feel just as good.

He only notices now that his fingers stopped moving, and they go right back to a steady pace, but it’s a matter of seconds before he drives another finger into you. Soon, you’re both fucking the life out of each other with your hands. You’re sucking and nipping at his ear, and every single moan he draws out of you ends up turning against him, breaking into the defenses he built year after year by your side. He’s simply fucking into your hand now. He can’t help it, you feel so good. He doesn’t even want to think about what it’s going to feel like to fuck into your tight little cunt, he might cum hard just from the thought of it.

The spongy spot he finds inside you feels like he just struck gold. It’s glorious, the sounds you make right now, higher, louder. You’re tightening around his fingers, but it’s okay—you can crush them for all he cares. He wants you to moan higher for him, wants you to keep riding his fingers like your life depends on it.

“Izuku, ah—I’m close, I’m so close, please…”

“I got you, baby. I got you, shit—”

He quickens the pace again, feels like his fingers are gonna fall off his hand the moment he gets them out of you, but fuck, what his princess wants, his princess is gonna get. Your orgasms shatter the both of you to pieces, and in the bliss of his high, he can hear some birds flying away, scared by the harmonious, but probably very loud, song of your combined moans.

While his cum strikes out by ropes into the water, his clouded mind can only think about one thing.

He needs more of you.

You can barely stand on your knees, worn out from cumming the hardest you have in your entire life. You actually have to lean on Izuku so you don’t fall into the water head first like some boneless ragdoll. You just let your forehead rest on his shoulder and count the freckles there, splattered in a fascinating work of abstraction.

But apparently, he has other plans. You’re swiftly lifted up and out of the water, huge scarred hands firmly holding the back of your thighs that immediately come to circle his waist.

“Oh, nice. I don’t mind getting carried around like a baby. Where are we going?”

“Not far,” he says with a little grin, walking out of the water. “Do you think you’ll be able to walk?” His voice holds a sarcastic tone, one you’re not used to hearing out of Izuku’s angel mouth.

“I think I can manage, yeah.”

He drops you to stand on your legs, and immediately goes for his backpack. The sun has just set, its last rays of light filling the pink sky over your heads. You can still easily make out everything around you, and Izuku’s body is no exception.

You’re watching him with a raised eyebrow, letting your shameless gaze follow every curve you couldn’t see underwater. The day he started exercising in high school was the day you knew it was over for you. It was the day you couldn’t deny what you felt anymore, you couldn’t deny your best friend was everything you needed, and everything you wished for. The physical factor was only a—very pleasant— addition to the list of things that made you fall hard for Izuku Midoriya.

Your eyes linger over his impressive figure, staring at the dimples at the small of his back. You always knew they were here, but you never allowed yourself to look at them, to imagine how they would grow repeatedly hollow with every thrust of his hips into you.

He finally digs out what he was looking for: a plaid picnic blanket, because of course he would have one in there. He’s wearing a little victorious smile when he stands and turns around to spread it on a grassy spot that looks a lot more comfortable than the hard ground. He turns back to you but averts his gaze to the side, hardly looking directly at you for more than a second at a time. The heat of his gaze tracing your curves through quick glances pools deep in your core. 

“You know you can look, right?” You sure aren’t refraining from doing so after all.

His face reaches its usual redness—hasn’t he learned anything from making you cum like crazy with just his fingers? It’s cute nonetheless; Izuku will never change.

He doesn’t answer your rhetorical question, only gives you a shy command in that tentative, very cute voice of his.

“Could you lay down on this for me?”

You saw this coming, but still, you’re a bit surprised he’s asking you that out loud. You gladly oblige with your legs pressed together, slightly bent. It’s another golden opportunity to tease him a bit:. “This isn’t exactly the right use for this blanket. Aren’t we supposed to eat on this?”

He smiles at the ground while kneeling at your feet.

“Maybe that’s exactly what I’m planning to do.”

Your sly smile fades away. His tone is a contradictory mix of shyness and determination, so it’s a bit confusing but also unbearably hot—you swear an astounding wave of heat is crashing through your deepest parts, untouched, just from some words and a funny tone. You rub your thighs together before he grabs and parts them to slip himself between them.

He crawls over you and leans down to kiss you, a bit more confident than earlier. His hips are pressing between your legs, where you can feel his hardness best.

He’s rutting more and more against you as the kiss intensifies. You could think it’d be a lot less exciting now that you know he’s going to eat you out, there’d be no suspense. Wrong. The little shit apparently likes to tease you to death, because he left your lips to kiss your face, nip at your neck, suck at your ears. Dragging his devilish hands everywhere, pressing harder each time you get louder. An especially heavy whine makes him buck hard, his mouth back against yours.

“The more impatient you get, the slower it’s gonna be,” he murmurs against your lips, and starts to make his way down to where you want him, kissing every inch of you, clouding your mind with desire. It’s way too much and still not enough; it’s maddening. When he finally reaches down, you’re on the verge of a second orgasm like you hadn’t just come down a few minutes ago.

He’s holding your thighs apart in a firm grip. Just the touch of his fingers burns your skin deliciously, and the look he’s giving you from between your legs...his eyes are clouded, half-lidded, looking at the part of you he’s never gotten to see before. It feels like he’s been looking forever and just a second at the same time.

He finally dips into you, leaving butterfly kisses all over your inner thighs, punctuated by little nips, nuzzling the soft skin. He’s not looking you in the eye anymore, his gaze lingering all over your body—all over except for your face. You can make out a slight blush on his cheeks despite the dimness all around. You know him better than anyone, so you immediately recognize what’s going on in his mind just from the slightest hint in his eyes. He looks like he’s fighting a battle against himself, his shyness against his hunger. And you know who you’re both rooting for.

He finally gives in, and it takes your breath away. A single, slight lick on your clit and you’re gone. And the next ones, more and more intense, more and more hungry, push you further to tumble over your edge. He grunts into your heat, multiple times. Moans like he’s the one squirming under your mouth.

His hands hold a firm grip on your hips, squeezing the flesh and keeping you in place—he doesn’t even give you an inch to move. You can only take and take and take. But you still have the luxury of your free hands, and they rush to bury in the knots of his messy wet curls, your nails dragging, scratching his scalp.

His lips close on your clit and suck just a bit, and before you can refrain, you pull on his hair, hard. He gasps, and the moment you think you hurt him, he breathes his loudest moan, right into you. You’re filled with the vibrations—they spread all over your body, have you throwing your head back, trembling from head to toe.

The louder you are, the hungrier he gets, filling you with his insatiable tongue. You have to look at him right now. And you expected quite a show, but you certainly weren't prepared to see this—him rutting against the ground like an animal. You realize he’s getting off just from your taste, just from eating you out. His hips roll repeatedly, making you salivate just to the thought of those same hips bucking into yours, fucking you into oblivion. And the more he ruts, the louder he gets.

Now if he wants to moan, you’re going to give him a good reason to. 

You hint for him to face you with a light tug on his hair. As soon as he’s back up, he dives in to kiss you. You don’t let him. In a second he’s on his back with you seated on his hips.

“What did I say about letting you play on your own, hm?”

The ‘deer caught in headlights’ look is so cute on him. And the rest is a marvel to look at. You’re straddling him and he has no other choice than to let you devour him with your eyes—not that he couldn’t bounce you off of him with just a thrust of his hips, but he already would have if he wanted to. You let your gaze wander mindlessly over him—it’s surreal. There’s no way he’s actually under you, waiting for you to please him back with his mouth and jaw still shining with your juices. It has to be a dream—it’s always been after all.

You shift so you’re straddling his parted thighs. You can finally take a look at him. The whole thing, that is. His cock is resting against his lower stomach, hard and swollen and thick. It’s a pretty, bright pink, shining with pre-cum at the tip. Your mouth waters just at the sight of it.

He’s looking down at you, his face as flushed as his dick, that usual blush still exquisitely coating his freckles. You take him in your hand, dive in to give a lick to the tip and his head falls back down with a whimper. You let your tongue drag over the whole length on the underside, and your lips close around the tip in a wet smooch. His hips jerk up a bit, startling you.

You finally take him whole in your mouth, and you can feel his whole body tensing under you. You start bobbing up and down, going a bit further each time, earning a series of shameless moans because this boy is loud. You expected him to express himself during sex since he’s such a mumbler—and frankly, it was always one of your biggest fantasies, hearing him come undone because of you, lose any sense of shame and self-restriction when he’s such a anxious person otherwise.

But you could’ve thought about it every night and day and still never be ready for this. It’s sinful. His hand goes to grab your hair just like you did to him, and now you get why he liked it so much. The feel of his nails scratching your scalp is electrifying, soothing and destructive at the same time.

Your tongue hits a precise spot just under the tip and he jerks up again, nearly screams, “Fuck—yes, right there, please—d-do that again!”

And you do, you can only oblige—he asked so nicely. Your lips go up and down, over and over, your tongue grazing this spot with a bit more pressure every single time. You squint over him, and what you find there is a mess. Trying so hard not to buck into your mouth but failing miserably. Sounding like he’s at Heaven’s gate.

“Easy, Zuku. You’re gonna scare the birds away,” you chuckle against him, your lips brushing the tip, dripping with your saliva and pre-cum.

“Do I need to remind you…how loud you were for me earlier?” He’s looking back down at you as he speaks, a tremble in his voice telltale of his approaching climax. “You sounded...so good, baby, I swear...wanna hear you again, wanna make you scream, just for me, fuck—”

You can feel yourself soaking the blanket, can feel the slick trickle down your folds and stain the plaid cotton. Is he aware of what he’s doing? Or is he just saying whatever is going through his chaotic mind? In any case it has you starving. So you let go of his cock and, before he can protest, crawl back to his face and kiss him desperately. Tasting both of your fluids in a mindblowing mix.

You pull back just enough to be able to speak, because you need him to understand you loud and clear when you say:  “Please, Izuku, I need you inside me, I’ve waited so long. Please.”

“Okay, okay, fuck—” He cuts himself off, his eyes slightly drooping like a sad puppy. “I-I don’t have any condoms.”

“You mean you probably have pads in there for me but no condoms?” you say with your eyebrows raised, your mocking tone hinting at a teasing remark, far from criticism.

He frowns in confusion. “How do you know I have pads in there?”

“So the legend turns out to be true. After all these years—”

“Shut up, you’re impossible,” he chuckles heatlessly, resting his hands on your back.

“It’s okay. I’m on the pill,” you assure him with a soft tone.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m pretty sure I’m on the pill, yeah.”

He rolls his eyes, then clarifies, a hint of hesitation clear in his voice.

“No I mean...you’re sure you wanna do this?” He marks a brief pause, takes a short breath. “With me?”

You don’t even think before answering, it slips your mouth like it’s not even your own words: “I don’t want it with anyone else.”

There’s a silence.

“Fuck, that sounds cheesy,” you scoff, looking away.

“It does, but we’re both cheesy idiots, apparently.”

You look back at him. His smile is so fond, so loving; it melts your heart in the best way.

“I wanna be your cheesy idiot,” you say against his mouth, looking right into his eyes, willing to fall in them.

“You always have been,” he nearly whispers. It fills your stomach with familiar warmth, intense and overwhelming, comforting.

There’s a bittersweet taste in your mouth, one of regret and lost time and God, we’re idiots.

Now it’s about time you make up for it all.

You look down at him, rolling your hips against him, dripping all over his cock, coating him in your juices.

“I think I asked you something, didn’t I?”

A whimper escapes him at the feeling. His hips buck up slightly, hands gripping at your back. When you do it again, you don’t get the chance to see his reaction; you’re on your back again, him towering over you, his thigh between your legs.

He’s looking at you with something in his eyes you don’t recognize, but the tone he speaks with has your entire body quaking.

“And you’re gonna get it, sweetheart.”

He holds himself over his left forearm, his hand thumbing at your cheek while the other strokes the whole length of your thigh. Your noses are brushing, your breaths crashing together. Your hands hold tight to his nape, playing with the short hair mindlessly as you’re waiting to be filled, finally.

You feel the stretch instantly. You try to focus on those mesmerizing emerald gems he calls eyes. They look right through your soul, eating you up and you barely feel the pain. He’s taking it slow, inch by inch, giving you all the time you need, caressing your cheek with a tender stroke of his thumb.

“Relax for me, baby.”

Izuku’s voice is a soothing sound over the incessant chirping of the grasshoppers. It was always one of your favorite things to hear, its every tone another blessing to your ears. It’s loving when he asks if you’re okay, comforting when he whispers sweet nothings to you as you cry on his shoulder, heartening when he’s going on about anything he’s passionate about.

He’s kissing every part of skin he has access to, over your face, your jaw, your neck. You feel yourself relaxing around him, and roll your hips up to give him the hint.

When he starts moving it’s still slow and careful. He doesn’t break eye contact, so you can see his every reaction, and he can see all yours. His hand is still playing with your hair, even as his pace speeds up with every second. The weight of him over you feels amazing, it holds him close against you, countless parts of you both rubbing together: your chests, your stomachs, your thighs. He doesn’t even have a lot of space to move. But getting to touch and get touched by him like this, it's incredible. You always had him so close to you, always right there and still so out of reach.

You still need more; you’re insatiable. You need to see him come undone under you, because of you. You push him to roll on his back, and you end up straddling him, setting the pace yourself. You start bouncing up and down on his cock, taking balance on the hard planes of his abs. He immediately reaches up to grab your hips, guiding you along.

His face tenses up, frowning, his nose wrinkling, his lips parted just to let out a series of breathy sighs. He looks wrecked and dizzy and stunning. He’s keeping his eyes open, fixed up on you, specifically on your breasts, bouncing with your every motion. And you can feel his gaze on your skin just as much as you feel his hands gripping harder at the flesh below your hips.

“Eyes up here, Zuku,” you coo with two fingers pointed at your eyes.

He doesn’t answer, only sits up easily and wraps his arms around your waist.

“You look so amazing, you have no idea what you do to me,” he says with a trembling voice, filled with bliss.

Your heart misses a beat at his words, they fill you with warmth and comfort because he definitely doesn’t have any idea what he’s doing to you. He delves his face into your neck, kissing and nuzzling, his breath coming shorter and shorter, crashing against your skin and his hands running all over you. The sound of his hoarse voice resonates through the forest and through your soul, echoing an enchanting song.

With little effort, he puts you back under him so he can pound into you with full force, and your legs immediately come up to wrap around his waist, pulling him deeper. Your hands grab his hair, tugging to see if you get the same reaction as earlier, and it doesn’t miss: he lets out a groan right into your ear, speeding up his pace again.

The sky is dark now, and all you can hear are his moans and yours and the slap of your hips coming together repeatedly. Your head is thrown back when he grabs you by the hair, forcing you to turn your head and face him.

“Look at me. I wanna see you.”

“Izuku, I’m gonna—”

“I know, baby. Let go for me, come on.”

Just the feel of his hand trailing down your stomach awakens something in you, this familiar pressure growing tight in your belly. And when his fingers reach your clit, a couple of strokes are enough to have you screaming his name, tightening around him, and pulling him towards his climax with you. His thrusts come franticly as you milk him dry, clawing desperately at his back, panting in his mouth as he leaned down to kiss you through both your climaxes.

As soon as he comes down, he rolls over on his side, still laying close to you, an arm thrown over you. You both take a minute to catch your breaths and, weirdly enough, you don’t hear anything aside from your panting. You really must have scared the birds away. Izuku breaks the silence first.

“Do you wanna...sleep at my place?”

He’s looking over at you and, despite the sky getting dark, you can easily imagine the blush coating his cheeks right now, like he didn’t make you scream his name, drunk on his cock two minutes ago.

You can’t repress your fond smile at his proposition.

“Yeah, let’s do that.”

You take a minute to gather your clothes from all over the place and get dressed, then grab your bag to tug it over your shoulder.

“You got everything?”

Izuku is waiting for you just outside the trees. You take a quick look around, making sure you haven’t forgotten anything, and turn around without a second look at the place.

Because although it was your first time setting foot here, it definitely won’t be the last; you will come back here with Izuku every chance you get, making it your shared secret, your own little wonderland.

You gladly take the hand he’s offering, making him blush a little harder, and you head straight back into the forest together.

You walk side by side as a comfortable silence settles, only disturbed by the grasshoppers’ incessant, boisterous chirping. The sky is utterly dark now, you can make out a few stars shining above the dense trees. You walk at a steady pace, but Izuku is going a bit faster with every step. Soon enough, he’s walking a bit ahead of you, still holding your hand. Another golden occasion to tease his eagerness.

“Are we in a hurry, Zuku?”

In the dark of the night, you struggle to make out the look on his face as he turns around to look at you. A second later, he’s running, and with your hand firmly held in his, you can’t do much but try to follow along. You giggle as you run, and it quickly grows into a belly-deep laughter. He’s fast, doesn’t get tired, but you follow him anyway, probably as eager as he is. You have to zig-zag so you don’t run straight into the massive trees standing in your way.

You get to the car in no time, but you’re both out of breath when you finally get in your respective seats, ready to go home.

Izuku doesn’t even wait to catch his breath before he starts the car, the engine roaring loudly in the silence of the night, probably scaring the birds away for the upteenth time that night. You catch his happy grin in the headlights glow before he heads back into the road.

You have a feeling the night is not over; you’ve only got twenty years to make up for after all.

[bottoms-movie]

SAMBUCKY FIC RECS

so a lot of people seemed interested this so here it is! if ya’ll like this, i can make more parts! this is split into three categories: based on tfatws, canon divergence, and au. all fics are on ao3. all of the fics are complete. some fics do include smut, but i included the ratings, so make sure to check for that based on preferences!

also, feel free to send me asks on your thoughts on any fics or if you’re interested in another sambucky fic rec post!

BASED ON TFATWS

Fill the Hole in my Heart | Not Rated | 4,848 words

Bucky dives into the world of online dating. The girls are nice, but there seems to be something missing. When he goes to Louisiana to meet Sam and his family, he realizes what that something was.

Skip, Reverse | Explicit | 7,945 words

Sam stood in the middle of their local Target with a throw pillow in each hand. The one in his left hand was butter-soft and matched the drapes in the living room, but Bucky had walked by five seconds ago and declared the one on the right “absolutely fucking hideous,” and so now Sam kind of wanted it more than he had ever wanted anything.

Sometimes romance is just bickering with your superhero partner/roommate at several different Target locations.

just won’t do right | General | 7,524 words

Sam's eyebrows go up, impressed, and he reaches over to squeeze Torres' shoulder, "This is amazing, kid. Thanks, really."

Bucky sits and watches in utter horror as the pink darkens on Torres' cheeks.

Oh, he realizes. Oh. Fuck.

body language will do the trick | Explicit | 12,598 words

“There’s no way you’re going to win this,” Bucky tells Sam. “I am going to love language the shit out of you.”

Sam gives him a considering look. “You do seem like you’d be really good at that.”

Bucky’s cheeks flush with heat. “Thanks, pal, I—”

Sam smirks, and Bucky’s eyes narrow. He shoves his elbow into Sam’s side and stalks off, leaving Sam cackling behind him.

“Your ass looks great today!” Sam yells.

Bucky reaches up to flip Sam the bird, and he definitely does not feel grateful that he wore his good jeans today. Bucky’s ass looks great every day.

checklist | General | 4,716 words

Bucky Barnes keeps a mental checklist of things he knows to be true at any given moment. Sometimes the checklist changes, because he's learned something else about himself. It changes, for example, when he starts realizing that maybe he would like to kiss Sam Wilson. Maybe.

best laid plans | 3 parts | 26,808 words

part 1: baby you’re the wave and I’m ready for the crash | Explicit | 6,616 words

Nah, my plan’s better,” Sam declares, before clapping Bucky on the shoulder.

“I’m sorry, what plan? Was that a plan? It didn’t sound like a plan to me, it sounded like a vague intention,” says Bucky, still scowling, and Sam grins.

“We’re winging it, the plan is a work in progress! Now c’mon, we gotta make some wardrobe adjustments if we’re gonna get into that club.”

Sam and Bucky have some unorthodox methods of going undercover in a club.

He Doesn’t Deserve You! | Teen | 5,154 words

Sam and Bucky have an argument that results in Bucky being left at the bar. A group of drunk strangers assumes Bucky just got dumped and quickly adopt him for the night to make him feel better.

Reconstitution | Not Rated | 10,228 words

“I didn’t back Steve on the Sokovia Accords,” Sam says unprompted one day. They’re so close to apprehending the Flagsmashers and wrapping up this ridiculous saga.

“I don’t follow,” Bucky says.

“I was the one who refused to sign it first. Not Steve.”

Sam says it so softly that Bucky has to strain to hear him. Sam is loud and chatty and half the time he keeps up a constant stream of chatter just to get on Bucky’s nerves, but Bucky’s coming to realize that when he really wants to make himself heard, he’s soft spoken and mild. Bucky doesn’t entirely follow his train of thought, though.

Or: a breaking down, remaking, and coming back stronger than ever before

Stuck On You (You Suez, You Luez) | Explicit | 10,136 words

Sam and Bucky’s mission was simple: stowaway on a ship suspected of weapons-smuggling in the Suez, gather enough intel to report back, and hop off again in Port Said. Something gets in the way, and a day-long recon session turns into a week of chess, bickering, semi-successful movie references, and trying not to go slowly insane.

His Touch | Mature | 1,006 words

When Baron Zemo touched Bucky’s face, Sam Wilson saw red.

Bucky just wants Sam to comfort him.

rusted | Teen | 2,358 words

Bucky doesn’t grace him with a sound of acknowledgement. He’s been quiet, ever since that night with Zemo. Well. Quieter. It’s almost like. Every time he opens his mouth, he’s half-expecting the Winter Soldier to come out.

He hasn’t, yet. Won’t, ever again. Not unbidden. Sam’s sure of that. Bucky, not so much.

‘You busy?’

‘’m scouring the—’

‘Good,’ Sam cuts the idiot off, ‘I need you to help me shave.’

advanced therapy methods for large adult men | 2 parts | 11,717 words

part 1: The Gottman Method for Dealing with Conflict | Mature | 4,187 words

Bucky and Dr. Raynor have a follow-up session and two entirely different conversations about his relationship status.

Or: Let's do more couples therapy, James.

it’s always Bucky’s Fault | 3 parts | 20,089 words

part 1: Did you see it? | Explicit | 3,905 words

In which there's supposedly a viral video of the Winter Soldier on his knees sucking off Captain America.

Everything is, like always, completely Bucky's fault.

CANON DIVERGENCE

Even in the Present (I Am Living in the Past) | Teen | 16,977 words

Sometimes Sam still questions everything about his ability to shoulder the 80-year legacy he now bears. His history, and the history of his loss, sticks with him and even in healing he doubts whether or not he is able to fulfil his purpose, and whether he may find lasting peace and happiness.

Told in fluid-fragments, the story moves between his therapy sessions after his return from active duty and the post-Endgame present.

You never forget your first | Teen | 3,650 words

The story of Bucky and Sam getting together in a series of firsts.

leftovers | Mature | 19,249 words

With the New Avengers up and running, Sam finally has time to start dating again. Unfortunately, it's not going as well as he'd hoped.

Partners | Explicit | 7,235 words

Sam's not sure if he can be Captain America. He's not a supersoldier. He can't throw the shield. He's just a dude.

And Bucky Barnes is just a nuisance, albeit a pretty good-looking one.

I’ll explain everything to the geese | Explicit | 50,949 words

Bucky is so competent that it hurts my feelings is not a rational complaint to have about a person, and yet, after a year of being Captain America and partnering up with Bucky for the new and improved, post-Blip Avengers, that’s kinda how Sam’s feeling.

It’s not great. It maybe leads to Sam making some rash, ill-advised decisions like claiming he has a previously undisclosed superpower, and then getting caught in a web of lies when he ends up actually developing that surprisingly inconvenient superpower. Talking to birds had seemed like a harmless superpower, but it turns out that birds have a lot of opinions, and they don’t hesitate to tell Sam about them, especially when it comes to his supposedly subpar courting skills. Which is ridiculous, because Sam isn’t courting Bucky. Right?

Night Swimming | Teen | 2,056 words

“Come on. The princess has a new arm for you and I gotta see if there’s a barber around here willing to tackle your…” Sam waved a hand at Bucky’s face.

“I don’t want a new arm,” Bucky immediately bit out.

And then -

“I can cut my own damn hair.”

Sam just raised both eyebrows. Crossed his arms over his chest again.

Dared Bucky to prove him wrong.

AU

Cpvert Coffee & Flirtation Specialist | General | 5,542 words

The reporter says "—for Captain America to—"

And Bucky rolls his eyes. "Oh, here we go."

Sam looks at him then tips his head sideways, got a weird grin on his face. "Not a fan?"

"Not that. Just… the guy seems too good to be true, right? Wings and a shield?? Come on."

"Uh, is that why your eyes are like glued to the screen whenever he's on?" Kate says. "Is that why you call him Captain Tight Ass?"

"He's a goddamn show-off, and you know it. Tight ass or not."

Just then Sam snorts, real loud, grabs his coffee and suffers a horribly controlled laugh on his way out the door.

Stolen Moments | Teen | 98,767 words

“No,” Sam said, chuckling. “I don’t cheat,” he swept his gaze up and down James’ body, “even with guys who look like you. But, I’m bored and a little pissed, so if you wanna sit here and shoot the shit ‘til my man shows back up, I’m game.”

Never one to back to back down from a challenge - especially a challenge who looked like Sam Wilson - Bucky took another swig from his bottle and replied, “Sure, doll. I’ve got nothing but time.”

Steve has Sam. Bucky wants Sam. Sam wasn’t expecting any of this.

Such a Whirlwind Since I Saw You | Teen | 10,871 words

The Men of Letters turned Bucky Barnes into a weapon. Hunters Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanov are determined to save him, but they're going to need Sam Wilson's help.

“So you want me to ditch work, drive across America with you until you find your friend, who you thought was dead - all while avoiding some high-tech hunters who are out for blood?” Sam is asking.

Steve shrugs a shoulder, looking a little sheepish. Natasha almost laughs at the dry tone of Sam’s voice, but he's not wrong.

You Got What I Need? | Explicit | 37,588 words

Sam and Bucky are both in a bind, professionally. Nat points out a solution that neither men like. To save their careers they play along or rather, stop playing all together.

[sserpente]

A/N: Heyho there my lovelies! I’m finally back! I missed posting so much! This Imagine is based on a TikTok I found and what can I say? It inspired me! After this, next up, will be the 20k Special! Enjoy everyone!

Words: 3205 Warnings: colour-blindness

“What if I never find him?” You murmured, glancing at the fruit bowl with a saddened expression. Yellow bananas, green grapes, red apples. To you, they were all different shades of grey. Dull and boring, like you had been sucked into a 30s black-and-white film. Only you didn’t get a cheesy romance out of it.

You had been born with what doctors today would call a ‘remarkably rare, complicated and fascinating condition’, for you had lost all of your colour vision at the age of twelve. You still remembered what the world had looked like before—bright, rich, intense—then someone flicked a switch overnight and all you could still see was grey, grey, grey and greyer. The colours would only ever come back to you once you found the love of your life—your soulmate.

A sigh escaped your lips. Only a few people still existed with this… defect and to make things worse, you had had no idea you were one of them. Not until your twelfth birthday. Society admired and pitied you all the same and yet, being a hopeless romantic, at the end of the day, you longed to finally fall in love.

Tony chuckled. “Heads up. You’re too young to worry about settling down anyway.” He responded cheerfully and pointed at you with a screwdriver in hand. He had been trying to fix the dishwasher for a solid twenty minutes now and for a man who had built himself a pretty much indestructible suit that could fly, it was utterly amusing he couldn’t figure out why it had stopped working.

You were not an Avenger, mind you. The sole reason you were, as of right now, in the Avengers’ kitchen munching on grey chocolate chips was that your best friend, who in turn was friends with Clint’s wife, had managed to flood your shared flat over the weekend. It was utterly inhabitable now and it would take quite a while for the landlord to get it all dried up again—and since insurance would not cover the cost for staying in a hotel, for the time being, Clint’s wife had suggested you’d stay with them—right until Tony Stark had shown up and you had graciously offered you’d come hang out at the Avengers Tower. Okay, technically you had begged him but either way and needless to say, you had jumped at the opportunity and somehow even hoped that you would learn some dirty superhero secrets—but so far, nothing. Nothing but what superheroes did when they were not out and about saving the world. Truth be told, seeing Thor in Hello Kitty pyjamas and witnessing Natasha Romanoff of all people scream watching an Asian horror film had its perks but you had somehow expected for them to be called in for an urgent mission where they required a skill only you had and then they would rely on your help and you would fight and become an Avenger and… your fanfiction had always sounded too good to be true.

“Are you still there? How is that fruit bowl so interesting?” Snapping yourself out of your thoughts, you blinked.

“Sorry. What were you saying?”

“I was saying that…”

“Tony?” It was Bruce who interrupted you two, peeking his head into the kitchen almost timidly. You waved at him and he nodded, yet he failed to reciprocate your smile. Uh-Oh.

“Did something happen?”

The scientist nodded. “You might wanna put on your suit.”

“What happened?”

Bruce pursed his lips. “We’ve located Loki.”

-

Your eyes were still widened by the time you rushed after Tony even after he had told you explicitly (three times, to be exact) to stay put and hide until he had been put in custody.

The Loki. God of Mischief, Thor’s brother, Frost Giant, the I-tried-to-take-over-the-planet-guy. It was exciting, somehow, meeting a villain and oh, would it fuel you for your fan fiction. You almost bumped straight into Thor when they all came to a halt all of a sudden, his body a wall of flesh and muscle and making you grunt in pain—you might as well have hit a brick wall. With his hammer in hand, he ensured no one would approach his dangerous brother closely enough for him to try anything funky.

But the fact that Loki was even more handsome in person and the first villain you ever saw in person when he turned around the corner with a proud and arrogant expression on his face despite his shackles, was not what startled you to the core.

All of a sudden, there were colours. Everywhere.

Your lips parted, the impact of all the pigmentation around you making you dizzy. Loki’s armour was black, his cape was green, his eyes were blue, and his hair reminded you of the plumage of a raven. And your surroundings... The compound was silver now, the sceptre they had taken from him golden. Nauseous, you held on to Thor’s muscly arm for support. The God of Thunder frowned in concern. His eyes were blue too, his hair blonde, his cape red… too… many… colours. You suppressed a gag, overwhelmed by the sudden return of your colour vision.

“Are you okay?” Thor asked.

“G-guys… I can see colours.”

Every single head in the room, including Loki’s, turned in your direction so fast you flinched. Tony’s face was the first to fall in response.

“You are joking, right?”

Mutely, you shook your head. Your eyes locked with Loki’s, electricity rippling through you when they did. His blue irises froze you from the inside out, like each and every one of your limbs failed to resist the magnetic pull you felt towards him, and your cells longed for you to throw yourself into his arms—despite the fact he was handcuffed... and for a good reason too. Swallowing thickly, you forced yourself to look away.

Loki was your soulmate. That was impossible; and quite frankly, the god in question appeared to be thinking the exact same thing.

You chewed on your lower lip, anything to distract yourself from your predicament all the while everyone was still staring at you like you had grown two more heads.

“Take him to the cells, I’ll stay with her.” Clint’s hand on your shoulder did little to console you. Part of you still barely resisted the urge to start at Loki like a succubus, the other… the other was terrified and meant to hide in the archer’s embrace.

You could feel Loki’s blue gaze still resting on you when he led you away from the scene, staring daggers into your back and rendering you speechless until you were finally out of sight and Clint shook your shoulder gently.

“Are you sure it’s not one of the security guards that helped bring him in?”

“No… no, I saw them first. Loki was behind them. It’s… I don’t know how to explain it but somehow, Loki was in colour first, you know what I mean? First him and then, a split second later, everything else was colourful too.”

“And now?”

“Now what?”

“Do you still see in colour now?”

“Of course I do.” Clint sighed and buried his face in his hands.

“So what happens if you don’t… act on this soulmate thing?”

“Nothing. Nothing happens.” You said.

“So you don’t have to… stay close to Loki or anything?”

“No. Not that I know of. But Clint—“

“Good. Because he might find a way to use you against us. Stay away from him. Thor’ll take him back to Asgard soon enough. All we need to do first is find the Tesseract.”

Your lips were pursed when he turned to check on them and if Loki was wreaking havoc while they were trying to get him imprisoned.

Stay away from him? Of course… it was the most reasonable thing to do. Loki was dangerous, a criminal… but was that right? Now that you had found your soulmate in him?

-

You couldn’t get him out of your head that night. Screw the danger, you had to see him. And eventually, your curiosity and that inexplicable and strange pull you felt towards Loki got the better of you. With a deep breath, you threw your covers back and let your bare feet hit the cold floor before quietly tiptoeing out into the dark and empty hallway.

Your blood was rushing in your ears, making you hear things your paranoia and imagination cooked up to the point your heart was pounding in your chest so hard and fast you feared it might jump right out of your ribcage. No one could know, of course. Clint would positively kill you—he, along with Tony, somewhat considered himself responsible for you here. You couldn’t really blame them. If something happened to you, they’d never forgive themselves. You were an innocent civilian, after all.

And now you had been tossed into the greatest fanfiction yet. Shivering, for the cold slowly crept into your bare skin and through the tanktop and shorts you were wearing to sleep, you finally reached the corridor leading to the elevator. The prison cells, a rather new addition to Stark Tower, were located at the very bottom, the cellar, or… what you preferred to call it, a modern dungeon.

You found Loki with his back turned to you in his cell, looking pale through the glass pane. Your heart skipped a beat when he suddenly spoke up.

“I expected you would find a way to come and see me at some point. I’d dare say the Avengers have taken quite the precautions to keep you as far away from me as possible.” He mused. He lifted his chin, approaching the glass window.

It was quite ridiculous to assume that this tiny and meagre prison would keep the Trickster at bay after everything he had proven to be capable of. If only he wanted to, he could shatter that glass with but a flick of his wrist or break the heavy metal door posing as the only barrier between you.

If you were to just… unlock that door to touch him… it would be so easy. Blinking rapidly, you shook your head to chase the thought away.

“Who are you?” He asked and for just a brief moment, you believed to see genuine interest and curiosity sparkling in his stunning blue eyes.

“No one, really. You already know my name, I presume but that’s all there is. I’m not special—I mean, I don’t have superpowers. I’m just a regular human with a rare condition.”

“Oh, I see. Surely you had not hoped for a criminal of all people to be your soulmate then? A murderer? A monster?” His expression hardened.

Yes. But you were not going to tell him that. He was still the person to have made you see colours again, regardless of who he was and what he had done. There must have been a connection between you, you felt it after all! And you were certain that he felt it too.

“Thor will take me back to Asgard and the great King Odin,” he continued, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “will surely have me executed. You will never see me again. So do not worry.”

“I don’t want that.” You finally chirped, barely daring to look him in the eye. His gaze was scrutinising and intimidating… almost as if he was able to see right into your soul with but one single glance.

Loki frowned.

“I bet you’re not happy about this, are you?” A desperate scoff escaped your lips. “I’m not sure I am…” You confessed and sat down on the chair in front of the window. It creaked a little under your weight, the unpleasant sound echoing through the empty hallway.

This man right in front of you was not be trusted and yet, the desire to pour your heart out to him was so strong you felt it like a sea of emotions attempting to drown you.

“You know ever since my twelfth birthday I wondered when I would finally meet my soulmate. Who they would be, what they would be like… and then so many years passed I was beginning to worry I might never see colours again. That I’d be alone and grey for the rest of my life.”

Loki licked his lips and glanced up at you, listening intently to every single word you said.

“Now I met you and they all tell me not to trust you. I mean… I know who you are, I know what you’ve done. I can’t say I’m happy about the fact my soulmate is…” You stopped yourself, breathing in sharply. “What was the universe thinking? You are a god and I’m just… me. We live light-years apart!”

Eventually, after a moment of surprisingly pleasant silence between you, Loki hummed. “The Norns do have interesting ways.” He said, locking his eyes with yours, almost as if he was pondering if… if what? If he could imagine being with you?

“So what should we do? Never speak of it again? Pretend we have never met? I can’t just… come to Asgard with you.” You held your breath when you realised what you were considering here. Loki must have thought the same. He smirked in response—not mockingly but bitterly. “Odin would never allow a mortal on Asgard. If I was to survive my trial, that is.”

“Don’t say that. I don’t care you’re a criminal right now, I just found my soulmate, and I don’t want to lose him again right away, regardless of what happens between us.”

With a start, his face fell. “Nothing will happen between us. That would be unnecessarily cruel, would it not? Your life in the nine realms is but a heartbeat compared to mine.”

“So… this is goodbye?”

Loki hesitated. You noticed by the way his lips slightly parted without a single sound escaping them just yet.

“Yes. This is goodbye.”

-

The fruit bowl had become your new best friend. In the morning, tired and rather absent, you sat at the kitchen table holding on to a steaming mug of coffee all the while studying the different colours of the fruit before you like a complicated Maths formula.

“Did you have a good chat last night?” Clint barked at you when he entered the room, skipping the ‘Good morning’.

“Huh?”

“With Loki?” He probed, raising his eyebrows in an I-already-know-what-you’ve-done manner.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You said, shaking your head and focusing your gaze on the fruit bowl again. Yellow bananas, green grapes, red apples. In colour.

You flinched when Tony spoke your name. “We saw the footage on our security cameras. You sneaked to his cell last night knowing fully well why you should stay away from him, especially with… with… you know.”

Fuck… the security cameras. You had completely forgotten about those! Of course the legendary Tony Stark would have had security cameras installed all over the damn place!

Busted, you shrugged your shoulders as nonchalantly as you could muster. “I just wanted to talk him. I had to talk to him. I know what you’re all thinking—that he’s evil and brutal and cruel and ruthless… and… and you’re probably right? I… I don’t even know but… he is still my soulmate. I can see colours again because of him for Fuck’s sake! I can’t just… ignore that.”

“I get it. We don’t know what it must feel like. But it’s for the best. We don’t want him to hurt you.”

“I am his soulmate, too. He wouldn’t dare hurt me. You know maybe he’s not the monster you all think he is.”

“Are you saying that because you know him so well after last night or because that is what you want to believe?”

Both. “I just… have a feeling.”

“Right.” Tony clapped his hands. Your name left his lips almost like a plea. “You have to trust us.”

Thor nodded. “Loki is dangerous. You should stay away from him at least until we know he is not still plotting the domination of your planet.”

“What do you mean ‘at least until’? You can stop staying away from him when he’s back on Asgard and out of your reach.” Tony snapped.

“We’re just trying to keep you safe.” Steve intervened. You sighed.

“You know what? I’m getting a headache and I’m still tired, so I’m gonna go back to bed.” That wasn’t even a lie—well, at least the fatigue bit wasn’t. Besides, the blackout curtains in the room Tony let you stay in were heaven-sent.

That was until a loud tumult in the Tower woke you up again, even though you were not sure anymore you had actually fallen asleep once your head hit the soft pillow.

“W—“ Your scream of protest was muffled by a cool palm covering your mouth. You struggled briefly, ripping your eyes wide open in a weak attempt to make out who was assaulting you in the comforting darkness of your room when you suddenly heard a soothing voice shushing you.

“It’s me…”

“L-Loki?” You choked out when he removed his hand again. “Did you… did you break out of your cell?”

“It would seem so. Come.”

“What?”

He tilted his head. “I don’t have much time.”

You stood, throwing the covers back when he already reached for your hand and held it tightly, pulling you with him into the hallway and towards one of the more hidden exists of Stark Tower, a flight of stairs illuminated only by emergency lights.

“W-what are you doing?”

“I am proving to you that I am more than just a criminal.”

“Oh… but… um… where are we going?”

Loki smirked. Your eyes widened when he pulled out the Tesseract seemingly out of nowhere, its blue light glowing brightly in the dark and throwing artistic shadows on his face.

“Hold on tight.”

“Loki…”

The God of Mischief pulled you close, making you gasp. Your chest hit his, his arm wrapping around your waist. With his face only inches from yours, you could feel his warm breath on your lips, and suddenly longed to kiss him.

“You are my soulmate. I am not leaving you behind.”

“What happened to ‘goodbye’?” You chirped.

Loki tilted his head almost threateningly. “You are mine. Don’t you think I wanted to leave this place without looking back?” His expression softened. “But I couldn’t. Because of you.” And you might just be the only woman to ever love me in this way, he added silently.

“B-but… Y-you said Odin will never allow me on Asgard and… and…”

“I never said we were going to Asgard, now was I?”

Your lips parted. Could you trust him? The stranger who had finally made you see colours again? If you told him No, would he let go of you? Would he let you run to Tony and Clint and Nat so they could protect you from him? Swallowing thickly, you met his intense blue gaze and nodded.

Loki smirked and winked. “You are in for an adventure.” And you knew he wasn’t lying. Next thing you knew, you were both hurtled through space and into a shared future.

-

A/N: ☕

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

Hey Vaunna, if you ever want to try and write something to make me cry, hit me up. Imma start making a list of things I’ve almost and actually cried over in fics-

Make me suffer, I dare you.

welp here we go! good luck everyone LOL

summary: Team ZIT face a blast from Zedaph's past

...

“I dunno about you but I think having only a set of coordinates sent to our communicators with no explanation is never a good thing,” says Tango, gazing around the clearing.

Impulse nods. “Agreed. Especially considering it’s been five minutes and… nobody’s here.”

As if on cue, someone walks out through the trees. The two jerk in surprise but relax when they register who it is.

“Oh, Zed, it’s you,” breathes Tango. “Why did you send us these coords?”

Zedaph doesn’t reply as he walks over to a tree on the edge of the clearing and pulls a lever.

Immediately, a glass box springs up from the ground and closes around the two.

“Hey!” Tango snaps, hitting the glass with his first. “What the hell are you doing, Zed?!”

“Tango?!” comes Zedaph’s voice from the opposite side of the clearing.

Tango and Impulse turn sharply to find… Zedaph running into the clearing.

After a stunned moment, they turn back. Zedaph is standing by the lever he just pulled, but he doesn’t look EXACTLY like Zedaph anymore. His eyes flash red, his hair more tousled and a slightly darker shade of blond.

“What’s happening here?!” Tango demands. “Why are there two of you? Who’s the real Zed?!”

“I am,” says the newcomer Zedaph immediately. “He’s…”

His face pales as he properly registers who’s standing on the other side of the clearing.

“I’m Helsaph,” the first Zedaph says. “Your dear Zedaph’s hels counterpart.”

“What’s going on?” asks Impulse nervously. “Why have you locked us in a glass box?”

“Oh, cuz I thought you might want to hear about what Zedaph did to me,” Helsaph responds aggressively.

Zedaph slowly moves forward towards Helsaph, but stops several blocks away. “I…”

“What the hell could Zed have possibly done to YOU?” Tango growls.

Helsaph jabs his finger at his counterpart. “You wanna tell them what you did or shall I?”

Zedaph’s mouth opens and closes uselessly for a few seconds, before he squeezes his eyes shut and looks away.

Helsaph turns to the two in the box. “Let me see if this jogs your memory of anything.”

He pulls out a pink item from his pocket and holds it up to his eyes.

Tango and Impulse freeze in horror.

“Look familiar?” says Helsaph challengingly. “Huh?”

Impulse stares helplessly at the helsmit. “I don’t… understand.”

Helsaph barks a laugh. “What, you don’t really think it was the real Zedaph under that mask, do you? Surely you don’t really think the mastermind behind the PR stunt that was Wormman would be out there risking his OWN neck?”

“Zed, what is he saying?” Tango demands.

“I recruited Helsaph to be Wormman and then I abandoned him in Season 5 when we moved on to the next world!” Zedaph bursts out suddenly.

Silence falls. Tango and Impulse exchange a look of horror.

“You didn’t know that, huh?” Helsaph taunts. “Guess your precious little best friend never told you that he’s not the moral angel you think he is.”

“Zed…” Impulse gazes at his friend in disappointment. “Why?”

Zedaph doesn’t answer. Instead, he murmurs, “There. I said it. Is that what you wanted, Helsaph?”

Helsaph grabs Zedaph by the collar and yanks him off the ground. “Is that it?! “Is that what you wanted?”?! YOU ABANDONED ME IN A GHOST WORLD FOR THREE YEARS!”

He tosses Zedaph away as if Zedaph weighed nothing. No sooner has Zedaph landed on the ground than he looks up to find Helsaph charging at him. He can’t react in time to stop Helsaph from slamming his boot into his stomach, yanking all the air from his lungs and causing him to dissolve into a fit of coughing.

“ZED!” Tango screeches, hitting the glass wall with all his strength. It starts to crack under his blows.

“You made me play the hero!” Helsaph yells at his counterpart. “You trained me and spent time with me and made me CARE about you and then you just tossed me aside like I was NOTHING to you! Do you have any idea how much it hurts to learn that the person you thought loved you actually didn’t give a DAMN about you?!”

“I…!” Zedaph’s voice fails and he hangs his head. “I’m… I’m sorry...”

“Oh, you’re SORRY?”

Helsaph grabs Zedaph by the throat and slams him against a tree, the pressure on Zedaph’s windpipe abruptly cutting off his breathing.

“You think SORRY is going to make up for what you did?!”

“Get off him!” screams Tango’s voice.

A second later, Tango himself barrels into Helsaph, knocking him to the ground and releasing his grip on Zedaph, who drops to his knees, gasping for breath.

Impulse appears at Zedaph’s side and envelopes him in a hug. “It’s okay,” he whispers. “It’s okay, Zed.”

A little way off, Tango is kneeling on Helsaph’s back, keeping him pressed to the ground. As Helsaph struggles against Tango’s grip on his arms, he screams, “All I wanted was to be loved! ALL I WANTED WAS TO BE ACCEPTED!”

“Shut up!” Tango snarls at him.

“Tango, don’t hurt him!” pleads Zedaph hoarsely, his vision blurred. Weakly pushing Impulse away, he stumbles blindly towards the hazy figures of Helsaph and Tango. “Let him go!”

“Let him go?!” Tango echoes in disbelief. “HE TRIED TO KILL YOU!”

“Please, Tango! Let him go!”

Tango stares at Zedaph in disbelief for a moment, before huffing and releasing Helsaph, though he keeps a firm eye on the helsmit. “Fine.”

Helsaph slowly pushes himself to his knees, his eyes fixed on Zedaph. All his anger seems to have vanished, replaced by despair. “Why did you not want me anymore?” he cries. “W-Was I not good enough…? Did I do something wrong…?”

“No…! I never intended to hurt you.” Zedaph’s voice cracks with emotion. “This is all my fault. I should never have abandoned you, I… I was just so scared of what you might become that I never considered I could help you not become it. And instead… my worst fears came true, and it’s all my fault. Helsaph, I’m so sorry.”

Zedaph slowly moves forward and, kneeling down in front of Helsaph, brings him into a hug.

And after a few seconds, the dam breaks.

Tango and Impulse stand together a safe distance away, watching their best friend hug his crying Hels counterpart.

“All he ever wanted was a family,” says Impulse quietly. “People to care about him the way we care about Zed.”

Tango hesitates for a moment, then makes a decision. He joins Zedaph and Helsaph on the ground and wraps his arms around both of them. Impulse does the same on the other side, both he and Tango holding their Zedaphs tightly.

“I wanna be a hero again, Zedaph,” croaks Helsaph. “Have I messed it up?”

“No no, you haven’t messed anything up,” Zedaph says reassuringly. “If anything, I’M the one who messed everything up. Can you forgive me, Hels…?”

Helsaph sits back on his heels, regarding Zedaph with wary eyes. “But… But how do I know you won’t abandon me again if I stop being useful?”

Zedaph anxiously clasps his hands together. “I know you won’t trust me again for a long time, and that’s… that’s completely valid. But I… I refuse to judge your worth based on how “useful” you are again. From now on, you’re my brother and I’ll stick by you, no matter what.”

“B… Brother…?” repeats Helsaph shakily. “You mean…?”

“You’re part of the ZIT family now,” Impulse chuckles, tousling Helsaph’s hair. “Double Zedaph.”

Helsaph stares at Impulse with wide eyes. “I… Why would you want me here after everything I did…?”

“Because Zed made some mistakes and he’s my friend so I want to help him fix them,” Impulse replies kindly. “Right, Tango?”

Tango nods back. “Absolutely. Plus, I mean, you can never have too much Zedaph, know what I mean?”

Sensing that Helsaph is about to cry again, Zedaph quickly steps in and says, “You know, Hels, you actually arrived at a great time. We could do with a hero right now. You remember Evil X?”

Helsaph nods, wiping his eyes with the back of his sleeve. “Very well.”

“They’re back on the server causing a bit of mischief, running a scheme that’s definitely a scam. The server could use a hero to keep an eye on them and make sure they don’t do anything evil.” Zedaph grins. “What do you think? You up to the challenge?”

“I…” Helsaph hesitates. “I’m out of practise.”

“Don’t you worry about that,” says Tango. “We’ll help ya.”

“Yeah, we’re gonna train you back up into the best superhero on the server,” Impulse adds happily.

Zedaph hands Helsaph the pink mask the latter dropped earlier. “Welcome back, Wormman,” he says softly.

After a moment, Helsaph takes the mask and puts it on.

And with this action, Helsaph’s road to recovery, surrounded by his brand new family, begins.

[love-takes-work]

When someone toxic needs a friend

I just wanna add a little personal reflection to the discussion of Spinel’s treatment in Steven Universe: The Movie.

A few signposts so you know where I’m starting with this:

A criticism I’ve seen: 

Steven was not particularly warm to Spinel. He did not hug her. He did not offer to be her friend. He spoke carelessly and triggered her toward becoming murderous again. He only cared about what she could do for him.

A perspective I’ve seen: 

LOTS of people with borderline personality disorder or strong feelings about abandonment personally relate to Spinel and are critical of Steven from this perspective.

Rebecca Sugar’s commentary on Spinel:

The thing about Spinel is that she’s a really toxic person. 

She’s so toxic that she’s literally trying to poison people. 

In my interactions with friends who have had a history difficult enough to make it hard for them to trust other people and sometimes even actively want to hurt others, it’s just a very difficult situation to navigate. In the case of Spinel and all of these characters, that’s extremely exaggerated because cartoons have the ability to be extreme exaggerations. I wanted to explore what it’s like when you’re trying to help someone who really doesn’t want to help themselves, who wants to embody the negative feelings that they have about themselves. I think that’s something really real. I hadn’t seen that in a cartoon before. 

Spinel, unlike many other characters, actually has the goal of hurting people, which is new territory for the show. She really wants to hurt Steven, and there’s a reason that she does—because she’s in so much pain. I just wanted to explore all the dimensions of that.

I also think Steven has his way of trying to handle and dissolve conflict. It’s not necessarily a good way for him to handle this situation. It really leaves him in a difficult state, and I think what I wanted to show in the way that they interact is that at a certain point, when you can’t help someone, you have to be able to protect yourself. 

Ultimately, he can’t really convince her to change. It’s something she’ll have to want for herself. But what he can do is protect himself from her, making it impossible for her to hurt him. 

It’s sort of up to you if you would like to love her. If you watch this movie and she, you know, frustrates you, that is totally fair. I want that to be a big part of who she is.

[From the AV Club interview]

So here are a few things I want to shed light on.

It’s very interesting that Rebecca intended Spinel to be read as “a toxic person” because so many fans fell in love with her, said they’d be her friend, hated intensely on Pink Diamond because of what she did to abandon the poor Gem, and sympathized with her directly. But Rebecca was looking at Spinel from Steven’s perspective. And that’s also what I did.

I’ve been Steven. I have VERY much been Steven.

When you meet someone who was done dirty, when you recognize the horror they’ve been through, when you see how much pain they are in and agree they have the right to be angry, it’s natural for empathetic people to offer themselves as comfort.

But when you’re Steven, you also know it isn’t YOUR fault either. Before you have the ability and experience to set boundaries, you can get sucked into other people’s stormy waters and think you’re helping if you drown in solidarity with them. What’s really important to preserving yourself is learning that you can stand on the boat and toss a life preserver. That it doesn’t ACTUALLY HELP to jump in the water and sink with them.

Some folks are angry that Steven didn’t jump right into sacrifice himself on the altar of friendship in the service of an intense, literally murderous stranger who tried to poison him and his planet and lash out at his friends, robbing them of their rich pasts and their relationships because all of it hurt HER so much. It is SO easy to understand WHY SPINEL WAS ANGRY. But nothing she was doing to Steven, his friends, or the Earth was going to fix her problems, and furthermore, she FULLY UNDERSTOOD that it was NOT THE FAULT of any of the people she took her anger out on. It was irrational, yes, and that is part of her dysfunction. But also, in these situations, what helps explain it still does not excuse it.

Some have railed at Steven saying he somehow forgave genocidal tyrants like the Diamonds but couldn’t be friends with a damaged Gem like Spinel who just wanted friendship. The big difference there is that Steven got involved with the Diamonds when both parties believed he was a different person. The Diamonds believed he was the lost Pink Diamond, and Steven has also spent much of his superhero life believing he WAS his mother and was therefore obligated to accept punishment for her crimes or to clean up the messes she made. Now that he knows he is not her and that she did some pretty horrible stuff, he also wants the right to stop feeling responsible for every person Pink hurt in the entire region of space.

Steven gave Spinel basically compassionate treatment. He did not abuse her. He did not insult her. He occasionally coddled her when it seemed important (and though some said he was too businesslike while he pursued his mission, he was literally looking at the world ending within two days if he didn’t solve the problem). And most importantly . . . .

He let her leave the garden.

Spinel stayed in the garden all those millennia because Pink Diamond told her they were playing a game. All that time, she had visions of Pink returning so she could see her smile, hear her laughter. We see a sequence where she tried to follow Pink out of the garden and Pink manipulated her into staying willingly. We watch those feet leaving and one pair of feet staying behind. We see Pink disappear.

When Steven goes to leave the garden, Spinel follows in the same manner. Some have criticized him for letting go of her hands.

But he invited her out of the garden. He didn’t say stay. He said come with me.

As he sang about her deserving someone better, he was sincere. But he did not say the person to make her feel found should be him. He did not want to take on another person with thousands of years of baggage who would require a specific brand of attention and so much tenderness to avoid snapping. He did not allow her to be held by the hand and led out. He recognized that she needed encouragement to leave this place because of what was done to her, but he wanted her to take the steps.

Compassionate people are crushed all the time under the weight of needy people who make it hurt to love. People like Steven can acknowledge that Spinel deserves love and deserves to be happy without accepting that it’s heartless to stop short of personally doing it. Especially when you literally have to take physical, mental, and emotional damage as a general consequence of offering support and counseling. It is sometimes just beyond what you can do.

I made the mistake several times of getting very close to someone who treated me poorly while taking comfort in my presence. I cared that they were hurt and I didn’t know how to say “You deserve love” without stepping in and loving them. In EVERY case I was involved with, the person went from initially grateful to “why don’t you help me more?” shockingly quickly, and two of them deliberately tried to create situations where I would be trapped with them and isolated from others. 

I could get very personal here but I don’t think I need to. Those of us who relate all too well to Steven wanting to help others will have been in this situation. Your heart hurts for people who live with pain that has never touched you, but when they’ve made it clear with one of their first actions that they feel satisfied at the idea of ruining your life, trusting them could mean the end of you. Especially if they demand that you risk life and limb to fix and save them before you’d dare to call it love, and especially if they want to be fixed without feeling responsible for initiating any of it. Some people mistake suffering for working hard toward a goal. Both can hurt but only one is constructive. If I’m expected to spend extensive resources on someone, I need some partnership in the goal, and I can’t accomplish that with someone whose wish for companionship manifests as “I want you to feel as bad as I do, and will take steps to hurt you so I have someone to cry with.”

Steven risked his actual life while he didn’t have powers so he could go talk to Spinel, and he wouldn’t fight her when she wanted to fight. He protected himself while she spent her anger. He STILL put himself in the line of fire far more than a less compassionate person would. He took time and tenderness to listen to her story and sympathize with her, tell her she deserved better, bear witness to what she’d become after being treated like a discarded plaything, and bring her hope with promises of a new future and a way to feel found.

Sadly, Spinel flipped back to being murderous at the first sign that Steven might be about to prioritize someone other than her, reframing his reasonable needs as if he was planning to abandon her, isolate her, discard her. This was a trauma reaction, yes, and she isn’t entirely to blame for being upset because she was worried she was just being used and none of her actions were logically thought through. 

But does someone ever “deserve” the friendship of a specific person who can’t feel warm toward them because of their OWN bad experiences? 

No! 

Steven has a big heart but he has his very own huge storehouse of trauma, and being physically attacked with his family and planet put in danger over the actions of his mother is at the top of the list. Instead of assuming that the person who has trauma the loudest is the most hurt, can’t we just acknowledge that Spinel’s and Steven’s respective traumas make them NOT the best match for friendship?

The ending of the movie, with Spinel going off with the Diamonds, might seem a little disturbing with all the codepencency floating around there, but if you want to talk about compassion, I think this is a good place for Spinel to start. 

She just wanted to make Pink Diamond laugh and enjoy her life. She longed to do that for so long and then it all ended when she found out she would NEVER GET TO DO IT. I think bonding with the other Diamonds and having a familiar, safe place to experience the kind of love she’s used to will be a good FOUNDATION for building herself into a person beyond that. For now, she needs comfort. I hope they treat her well.

[professional-idiocy]

To be Forgotten - 2

Still inspired by @the-three-whumpeteers' prompt and just all her posts. (Seriously. The only reason I'm even writing this is because of her prompts) Also to the two anons, here's what you've been waiting for. Obligatory "I'm back bitches"

TW: non-con drugging mentioned and attempted, needle mentions. Anyway, actually pretty tame for my standards.

Superhero sat in his car with Supervillain curled up in his backseat making his way through the empty streets. Luckily Hero would be there along with Sidekick and Medic.

He needed some help with Supervillain since he was in a mild state of whatever this was. His illusion of reality had crumbled only minutes before and now he had his groggy and drugged-up nemesis in the backseat of the car, deathly silent.

Finally, they arrived at the base. He’d never been this glad to see the place that housed the vilest thing ever, paperwork. Now he needed to get Supervillain to Medic. He got out opening the backdoor and dragging unconscious Supervillain out, before picking them up. He couldn’t help but smile as Supervillain stirred, nuzzling to his chest and mumbling his name.

Supervillain was never this vulnerable and it was odd how adorabl- Focus! You have important stuff to do. He walked into the base worry dripping off him as his friends sat there playing monopoly on the floor before turning to him in surprise.

“Medic, I need help. I broke supervillain out because they kept him drugged up and I couldn’t exactly leave my nemesis alone and they had even told me I would save them. I’m a year late though so that’s horrible and--” Superhero said holding Supervillain close as tears began to fall. Medic smiled patting his back as Superhero continued crying.

“Just get him to the infirmary. I’ll check him out and make sure to do my best to help him” Superhero nodded rushing through the halls and getting to the infirmary in record time. He carefully laid Supervillain on one of the beds, only for him to latch onto his arm weakly and carefully slur out the words.

“pleas, don’ wanna be ‘lone anymo’e”

Superhero froze, his nemesis had never shown any weakness and now- now he was asking him to stay.

“Shhh, it’s fine. I’ll stay with you as long as you want” Superhero whispered running his hand through Supervillain’s matted hair. “Sorry for not helping you sooner” Supervillain seemed to freeze for a moment before attempting to smile as he squeezed Superhero’s hand a bit tighter.

Medic rushed in cursing out Superhero as their soft moment was cut short by the cursing and panting of Medic while supervillain attempted to flinch away. After a while of Medic trying to catch their breath, they got to work.

As soon as Medic even came close Supervillain tried to weakly fight back to no avail. Medic grabbed a bottle and filled a syringe with it. All the fight in Supervillain died down after that. He turned to look at Superhero in horror, eyes still glassy and unfocused, but filled with fear.

Superhero rushed to protect Supervillain by setting himself in between Medic and his nemesis. “What do you think you’re doing?” He asked Medic, hostility oozing off him as they just sighed.

“Look, it’s a simple sedative that takes away powers so that Supervillain doesn’t cause trouble” Medic tried to defuse the situation as the nemesis hid behind his mortal enemy like a distressed child.

“I’m not letting you drug them”

Medic sighed, shaking their head. “Alright, alright. I just- that’s a villain who caused massive amounts of problems for us and I don’t trust them but fine” Medic said throwing his hands in the air.

“Overall Supervillain is just fine. You can just take your precious crush and if anything changes come to me” Superhero just sat down ignoring Medic’s comment. He didn’t have a crush. He just- being someone’s nemesis meant it was your duty to protect and help them when no one else would. That’s what Supervillain taught him when the media first labeled them that.

He smiled remembering that night when he’d had a run-in with some thugs who got lucky and jumped him. But Supervillain had taken him to his crappy rundown apartment and had taken care of him the whole time. Never once betraying his trust and taking him out then and there.

That’s when he’d explained what being nemeses' meant. He smiled petting Supervillain’s hair sitting on the bed as he snuggled close, still holding onto his hand. His nemesis looked, innocent and precious as he held onto his hand while sleeping.

His life had been pretty empty after Supervillain’s arrest but now he had him back, but at what cost. His nemesis had only been caught after he couldn’t fight anymore due to taking a bullet for him. Superhero felt the hot tears slide down his cheeks and clouding the vision.

This was how he’d repaid Supervillain.

By abandoning him in there.

He didn’t deserve the title of a hero.

Not after all this.

[unknownwriting]

Summary: Hc binging a series

Characters: Trafalgar Water D. Law, Usopp, Nico Robin

Warnings: none :)

Notes: school is really getting in the way and I wanna cry so expect these semi-rushed hc :))

Trafalgar Water D. Law

Definitely Mostly watches superhero series: Gotham- yes, Superman- yup, any of the marvel shows- probably knows all the theories. This man is lowkey a huge fanboy and there’s no denying it.

Lowkey probably into Grey’s Anantony. He’ll make comments like ‘that’s so stupid’, ‘they did that all wrong’, ‘so much drama’, ‘they could’ve saved him another way.’ Although he watches it he still a doctor and can’t help but point it all out.

He’s not to big on snacks. He’ll have like only a drink and maybe a small bag of chips but that pretty much it.

In all honesty I can see Law liking tv series more than movies for many reasons: 1- he gets to spend more time with you whether it’s talking about therioes, ranting about something, or just cuddling and 2- he feel like they have more to them, like more mysteries, action, and times where the 2 of you have to think to figure out what’s gonna happen next, though, most of the time your doing all the thinking bc law figured it all out. But to save time, mostly do to his job, he sticks to movies.

Like I said before this man is into series that make you think, maybe even to the point your brain hurts but no matter what your thinking. I would give examples but my poor brain would be fried if I watched those series alone. But still this man needs something to keep in mind busy, and why not think. With that in mind, psychology or thrill is probably up his ally. Along with superheroes. Omg and when the 2 of you watch superheroes, you find it so cute when he fan boys. Ajhfsdjhdf you can’t tell me he is not cute.

Although, Law likes the keep his mind working bc this man is like hella smart occasionally he’ll watch some romance movie with you. Now of course don’t think you’ll get away wraith watching something like the Kissing Booth, he won’t have it. When it comes to romance your have 2 options, either an old romance like the note book or some superhero, like Wonder Woman.

But even if the 2 of you watch a fiancé movie it never last long anyways. Watching romance also ends in one thing: you 2 in bed :) You try to tell him that you just wanna watch he movie but Law is a surprisingly romantic person so he’s gonna wanna also show that he loves you. Kinda thinks the reasons you like the romance is because he’s not showinf you enough love but you didn’t here then from me.

Definitely the best person to talk to when it comes to theories and all that.

Because his crazy work schedule does tend to get in the away quite a lot, when the 2 of you do get to spend time with each other, you both make sure it’s to the fullest.

Usopp 

Usopp will watch almost anything with you, it might take some time but even horror

Hands down Usopp is one of the best people to watch a series with for many reasons. 1- he’ll watch almost anything 2- he’ll watch a series all the way through in one sitting but will only stop when one of you can’t sit still anymore or th sires has ended, duh. It doesn’t matter if it’s long or short, the 2 of you will watch until you eyes turn red.

If one of you end up falling asleep the other will always turn off the series no mater where you are at. Action just started but you fell asleep, usopp doesn’t even hesaite. Just found out the mystery behind the main characters dad is but Usopp fell asleep, you don’t even give it a 2nd thought and turn it off. 

The whole reason the 2 of you watch series together is to have someone to share the exsperance with and to have someone to talk to, rant, to, and cry with so if either of you watch ahead and/or spoil it, it defeats the whole purpose.

And finally the 3rd reasons is: Usopp knows how to binge. He’ll bring snakes, blankets, drinks, and all of it. And with that being said, it’s a know fact that the 2 of y’all will easily become couch potato partners, rarely even moving.

Like before, Usopp doesn’t really care what y’all watch, he just wants to be with you. But if he had a choice, I feel like he would prefer anime. Just because he can find like so many more options.

He’s also not really one for like thinking. So he’ll try to stay away from shows that Law might watch.

Sadly, although I’ve been talking like the 2 of y’all don’t have a life and just sit around and watching tv all the time, y’all do have a life. So there are some times where y’all won’t be able to watch tv and it might be a while till y’all do so. But, bc I wrote these hc with the idea that y’all are in college, y’all live together so when it’s a lot easier to watch tv shows together.

Robin

Robin’s not to big on tv shows or movies in the first place. She’s rather snuggle up with a book and a cup of coffee. However, she knows that you enjoy watching movies and tv shows together. So she doesn’t mind sitting down and enjoying a few shows/movies with you.

The only ‘rule’ she has when it comes to watching shows/movies is that she won’t watch movies and shows that are based on books. She won’t watch them at all, she’d rather read the book to get all the information and the full story

Besides that, she’s pretty open when it comes to shows/movies. She doesn’t mind watching what ever you wanna watch. She might not pay attention but she’ll watch it with you.

Like Law, for Robin to pay attention it would have to be a show with a lot of historical value that makes you think a bit. She loves discussing theories and ideas with you.

She’s also not to big on snacks, it could get messy and distracting so she tries to avoid them. Although, Robin doesn’t mind having a drink with her, like an ice tea, coffee or maybe something with alcohol in it.

With that being said, Robins not to big on snuggling up in blankets, either. Now that doesn’t mean she doesn’t enjoy to cuddle, she just wants to be under and light blanket that is easy to get in and out from.

Robins also not one to spend the whole day watching shows either, she would prefer to do it at night and only watch maybe around 3-5 depending on the show. She also prefers to read so there aren’t many times where the 2 of can watch shows together but she never said she wouldn’t read while you watch the show.

Bc y’all’s daily schedules can vary with Robin working as an archaeologists, its not surprising when the 2 of y’all can’t really sit back and relax with each, so watching those shows/movies is a nice way for y’all to relax without exchanging any words and just enjoying each other’s company 

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

COSMIC - S3:E3; Chapter Three, The Case Of The Missing Lifeguard - [Pt. 4]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

𝘌𝘭 𝘨𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘉𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘞𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘥, 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘔𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘋&𝘋. 𝘋𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘺 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘙𝘰𝘣𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘙𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘨𝘦.

⚠️: character death, gore, jazzercise, and small mentions of El having a panic attack [will include markers]

📝: the character death and gore is a flashback from last season cause apparently making us watch Bob die once wasn't enough 🥲 also sorry the code cracking scene was so bad, it was kinda hard to write

||𝟑𝐑𝐃 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

It hadn't taken long to get El ready for her next trip to the void. El found a spot on the ground, dry enough to sit, and began constructing a familiar device with goggles and duct tape they had miraculously found laying around. El had been kicking herself for leaving her headband at home, she should have known she'd need it. But this would do. And it reminded her of her conversation with Joyce that night; the first time someone had helped her through her fears of the void. Y/n and Max got to work behind her, turning on each of the showers to create the white noise El needed.

When they had finished, they took a seat on either side of their friend who now sat before the photo. Drawing in a deep breath, she placed the goggles over her face and began her search.

It was cold and lonely like it always was. Again, she tried to remind herself her friends were with her but it did little to lull the growing fears of what she might find next.

A mailbox was her only clue this time. It wasn't too far away, but the way it stood alone in the distance, waiting for her, unsettled her somehow. Maybe that was just the void, but that felt like a lie she kept trying to tell herself to get through it all.

It bore the numbers 1438, and it was sprinkled in rain. When she finally reached it, she carefully reached out her hand. She could almost feel the tin under her fingertips when suddenly a crimson smoke manifested out of thin air just feet away. It didn't take long for the smoke to build and the picture to form.

"What do you see?" Max asked, after some time.

"A door," El answered, her voice obstructed from the goggles over her nose. "A red door,"

It sat there, waiting for her to move. El knew she had to, and when she did that awful feeling in her gut grew stronger. Her heart pounded against her ribcage as she reached for the handle, and it took all she had not to waver as it slowly swung open.

El's frown grew at the sight waiting for her on the other side. A ways away sat a bright white bathtub. She wasn't at all eager to find out what was inside, but when she did, she wished she could say she was surprised.

Ice. Just ice.

Just like with Billy, but the ice hadn't melted yet. The tub was almost overflowing with it and—

El jumped back when a girl shot up from within so suddenly. It was Heather. She was pink-faced and trembling, but something told El it wasn't from the cold. The droplets of water covering her face had easily disguised the tears slipping down her face, and the look in her glassy eyes was pleading up at her.

"Help me," she sobbed.

El didn't have time to react before Heather was pulled violently back under. El shrieked, immediately diving after her only to be met with the watery floor. She was panting for breath, trying so desperately to calm her racing heart but she realized she didn't have time to. Heather was still there, in need of her help and she was quickly disappearing under the water that separated them.

El cried out to her, desperate to reach her but something was stopping her. She could scream and claw at the surface of water separating them, but by the time she found a way to duck her head and arm in after her, it was too late. El watched helplessly in horror as Heather was pulled into the deep black abyss of her watery grave, crying out for help.

"NO!"

■■■■■■■■■■■■■

El threw the goggles off her head in an instant, her shoulders heaving as she gulped down breaths of air.

"What happened?" Max asks immediately, her hand flying to El's shoulder for comfort. "El!"

El didn't answer. With a haunted look in her eyes, she gaped between her friends. Worried, to say the least, Max and Y/n looked to one another afraid as she buries her head in her hands. El didn't say a word and instead collapsed into shaky sobs as she tried to come down.

Y/n recognized the panic attack, and in an instant she had thrown herself to the floor beside El, laying her hand on her back and began rubbing soothing circles.

"Hey, you're okay. You're okay. Take my hand," She whispers, carefully taking El's left hand in her own. She knew it was a good sign when El squeezed back, despite her heaving breaths. It was a sign she was responding. "We're here, it's okay. Just breath. Deep breaths, in and out,"

El's breathing barely slowed, but Y/n kept encouraging her. As they found themselves doing more and more, Max and Y/n lock eyes, their faces horror-stricken for their friend. El doesn't notice. She merely squeezed Y/n's hand tighter and allowed the sobs to come.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

HAWKINS NATIONAL LABORATORY

Once a place thriving with life and secret agency was now a desolate wasteland; a grave for rot and chaos that lay untouched for months.

The sign once erected on the outer gates now lay dented and scuffed among the mud and rain, forgotten like the rest of the laboratory.

RESTRICTED AREA

NO TRESPASSING

U.S. GOVERNMENT

PROPERTY

Hoppers truck comes to a screeching halt outside the lab's doors. Grabbing their bolt cutters and flashlights, Joyce and Hopper make their way to the abandoned laboratory that had caused them so much pain.

Joyce couldn't shake the feeling something was wrong. She knew it was silly to be so worried about faulty magnets, but she didn't regret her actions. The last two times she had this unshakeable feeling in her core, she had been right to listen. The first being the moment she found Will's bed empty on the morning of November 7th, 1983. The second being Halloween night, the following year. And each time she felt it, untold horrors had followed.

And now? So far, those instincts hadn't failed her yet.

One visit to Scott Clarke about the town's sudden faulty magnets and her doubts were confirmed. And according to him, the only way an unstable electromagnetic field big enough to reach over all of Hawkins would have cost billions of dollars, and likely government-funded.

This had the lab written all over it. This had to do with the Upside Down and those monsters with it. It just had to. And she wasn't about to sit around and wait for it take her boy again. Or anybody else for that matter.

So here she was, nothing but a flashlight in hand and a fierce determination in her as she stormed the gates of Hawkins Lab, Hopper in toe.

The lab was just as they had left it that night. Glass was shattered among the floors from the busted windows, the chill seeping in from all sides; still as sharp as it was that night.

"Hello? Anybody home?"

The only answer the duo receives is the echo of Hopper's voice bouncing back to them as they step inside.

"We come in peace."

As she stood here now, Joyce realized everything was as she had last left it. That is... all but one thing.

One person.

Bob Newby. Superhero.

《•••》

He stood, the warmest of smiles gracing his face as he looked at the woman he loved. She was safe.

The next thing he felt was a harsh thud in his spine and skull as he was thrown to the floor.

All he knew was fear as he stared death in the face; its haunches in the air and its faceless head peeled away to reveal several rows of sharp thorny teeth as it pinned the man to the floors.

Joyce jumps back at the sight, her horrified screams blending with his own. The creature towers over Bob, and despite the man's best efforts he cannot quite match the beast's strength. It raises a single lean arm into the air, and in one swift motion its talons glide down to meet his left kidney. As its claws sink further into his sides, a cloud of deep crimson stains his scrubs, and a guttural cry of pain tears from deep within his chest.

"No!"

Joyce's cries of anguish alert the chief, who comes in all too late. He draws his rifle, now more in tune with the weapon without a still unconscious Will over his shoulder. But even then, it is far too late when the bullets hit the thing attacking Bob. Life has already begun to drain from the man, and in a matter of seconds, his chest had been torn to shreds.

"No!" She cries, fighting against Hopper's grip, unable to tear her teary eyes away from Bob.

"Go!"

As she is pulled around the corner, her one free arm stretches out after the man who had risked so much.

"Bob!"

The last thing she sees before the scene disappears from her view altogether is Bob's trembling and bloody hand reaching out for her in his remaining moments.

"No!"

《•••》

"Joyce,"

Her eyes are far away and haunted when she finally looks at Hopper. It looked to him as if she was pulling herself out of a memory, and he didn't have to wonder which. Hopper had a hunch this would happen, but he was in no place to blame her.

"You okay?" He asks.

But she was already burying it. Again, something he anticipated.

"I'm fine," she says quickly.

"You wanna wait in the car?"

Joyce all but scoffed and marched ahead.

"I said I'm fine."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Hours. They had been at this. For hours. At least... Well, that's what it felt like to Steve and Dustin as they continued their search.

Really it had only been a little over one.

Spycraft could be pretty boring, they quickly realized.

Their mission was beginning to feel a bit silly as the longer time wore on. After all, what were the odds they'd find an actual evil Russian waltzing around in broad daylight?

"Target acquired," Dustin gasped.

Okay, so maybe the odds were pretty decent.

"Where?"

"Ten o'clock. Sam Goody's,"

"Give me that," Steve says, taking hold of the binoculars.

Sure enough, just as Dustin had said, a towering man in shades, long blonde hair, was carrying a duffle bag as he strode through the crowd.

"Shit. Duffle bag,"

Lowering the binoculars, the duo look to one another with grave faces as it dawns on them.

-"Evil Russian"

He wasn't at all hard to spot in their sudden chase. His all-black jumpsuit stood out among the sea of neon around him as he ascended the escalator.

Despite his casted looks at his surroundings, the man didn't seem to notice the two boys close on his tail.

"Slow down," Dustin warned, as they squeezed through a group of girls.

"We're losin' him,"

"You're getting too close,"

Steve's shoulder suddenly collided with a guy not much older than him, who turned to scowl at him.

"Watch it, dickwad!"

The target slowed, peering curiously over his shoulder. Steve and Dustin fall back against the wall; Steve behind a plant that didn't exactly hide him or his bright blue uniform and Dustin ran for the payphone. He picked it up, immediately speaking into it in a monotone voice he would cringe at later.

"Hello. Yes. I am fine. How are you?"

But he didn't seem to notice, the target had already moved on. He seemed to be in a hurry.

When they were certain he had no reason to spot them, they fell back into a scurry on his tail which carried them all the way to...

Jazzercise?

Peering around the corner, Steve and Dustin watched bewildered as the man hurried to the front of the class.

"All right, everyone, listen up!" He yells.

Their minds raced as he threw the duffle bag onto the counter with an impressive thud before pulling back the zipper.

"I just have one question for you."

What evil did this man have in mind for this poor, unsuspecting group of women?

"Who..."

He rips his glasses off, and reaches into the duffle bag-

"is ready to sweat?"

-and pulls out a boombox.

Simultaneously, their faces fall into small 'o's as they gape at the unexpected turn of events.

The ladies clad in neon tights and leg warmers bounce happily on their mats, and a chorus of agreements ring out throughout the class.

"That's right!" Cheers the non-Russian. With a blindingly white smile, he presses play on the boombox and Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go begins to burst from the speakers. Stepping onto a mat of his own, he unzips his black jumpsuit — which they now realized was a tracksuit — to reveal an equally neon, dangerously thin, muscle tee. "Okay! Let's start nice and easy now."

A grimace falls over Steve and Dustin as they watch the sight unfold.

"Let's move our thighs. Yeah!"

The women cheer as he begins to grind the air.

"Yeah, ladies, warm it up."

They begin to copy his motions.

"Bring it down to your hips. Start feeling that burn, everywhere, down in the loins, right?"

Steve just blinks.

"Slow now. Just isolate."

The man begins thrusting his hips, and Dustin watches horrified.

Okay, so maybe this mission wouldn't be so easy.

But if they were going to find anything, he was sure it would be easier to handle than this.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"The week is long," Robin mutters. "The silver cat feeds when blue meets yellow in the west. A trip to China sounds nice if you tread lightly."

She takes a thoughtful sip of her soda, eyes raking over her notepad with the now fully translated message. Turns out, translation went a lot faster without those idiots trying to help. But something was still nagging at her.

"Tread lightly," she mumbles, discarding her drink and beginning to thumb through the translation book.

Had she gotten it wrong? She didn't think she had, but why else would it be bothering her?

She was pulled from her thoughts at the sudden sound of knocking on the back door. In a haste, she unhooks the headphones from her neck and squeezes through the partition window before yanking open the back door.

"Delivery for you,"

"Thank you," she says, grabbing for the package.

It was heavy, but that was to be expected. It must be the new shipment in from Michigan, she thought. With a huff, she drops it onto the break table before turning back to the waiting delivery man.

She scratched her signature in before handing the pen and clipboard back, and that's when her eyes linger on his uniform.

LYNX TRANSPORTATION

That nagging feeling was back, but more than anything it felt like an itch had finally been scratched.

It couldn't be, could it?

"Have a nice day,"

"Yeah, you too," she mumbles.

She could hear the wheels of his hand truck carrying down the hall and that's when Robin peered out after him.

A hint of a smirk grew on her face when she laid eyes on the insignia painted over the back of his uniform.

"Silver cat." She gasps. "Silver. Cat."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"Hey, Robin, you're not gonna believe who Dustin thought was a Russian," Steve grumbled as they strode back into Scoops Ahoy.

Dustin shoved his arm.

"You did too."

"No, I did not!"

"Yes, you did!"

"No, I did not."

But Robin wasn't listening. She had shoved herself right past them without so much as a glance in their direction.

Out of breath in exhilaration, Robin finds herself on the ledge of the topiary in the very heart of Starcourt. Her eyes scoured the shops and she can feel everything falling into place.

"A trip to China sounds nice," she mutters. "A trip to China... sounds... nice..."

If Lynx Transportation was the Silver Cat, something in this mall — a store in this mall — then that meant...

Imperial Panda.

Her grin returns.

"A trip to China sounds nice."

She checks her notes again.

'If you tread lightly'

It had to be something with shoes...

How about Kauffman shoes?

"If you tread lightly,"

Now blue and yellow... what could that be — where had she seen that?

"When blue meets yellow..."

Her eyes fly across the walls, and for a moment she wonders if it's somewhere deeper in the mall out of sight. But that didn't make sense. What did make sense were the two clock hands at the center of the mall she had glanced at almost every hour of every shift.

"in the west."

"Robin?"

Steve and Dustin reach her side, peering up at her with a questioning look.

"What are you doing?"

"I cracked it," is all she can say.

"Cracked what?"

No longer able to contain her excitement, she jumped down from the ledge and her lips split into a small, shaky smile.

"I cracked the code."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Stepping through the airlock doors that separated the world from the gate to the Upside Down was not as daunting as it once had been.

For one, the airlock obviously was no longer functioning, nor was anything else in the building and above all, it all felt... empty. It looked more like an abandoned hospital than a notoriously evil government lab dedicated to the study of alternate dimensions and psychic child weapons.

And what once had been a gaping hole that lowered into a stories-high rift to another dimension was now just a slab of fresh concrete. The gate, and any way of reaching it, had long since been sealed.

Hopper gives a definitive, hollow knock on the plaster when they reach the wall, and turns to Joyce, "Nobody's home," and paces away.

"All the cavities have been filled. I watched 'em do it, Joyce."

At the very least, it was hard to swallow. For so long the truth had always led back here. Everything led back here.

The mind flayer, the demodogs. Will himself.

How could this not be the lab? Or at the very least, the Upside Down?

"It's over," Hopper concludes, seemingly reading her thoughts. Sharing a collective sigh with Joyce, Hopper looks around at the remains as she takes a seat on a nearby lift. "It's over,"

"I feel like I'm looking my mind," she says.

"You're not losing your mind," Hopper assures, nervously beginning to pace. "Not any more than I am."

He nibbles on the inside of his cheek as he nervously kicks a loose piece of rubble.

"You know, the other day, I almost shot Betsy Payne's dog because it came rushing at me from behind this fence, and I... I swear to God I thought it was one of those things."

The look in Joyce's eyes was all too familiar. It was a look he knew he had been wearing as long as she had

"You know that I'm keeping a close eye on things, right?"

"Yeah,"

"Because it is important to me." Hopper all but chokes. "It is important to me that you feel safe. That you and your family feel safe. I want you to feel like this can still be your home."

Joyce winces.

"What?" He asks somberly, already knowing the answer. "You didn't think I'd find out about that? Gary called me. He's said he's fixing up your house to put on the market."

Joyce makes no effort to deny his claims and Hopper realizes he never really expected her to. He didn't know what he was expecting. But the Byers leaving Hawkins was something he considered unthinkable.

And knowing that family, he wasn't the only one who'd miss them.

"The kids know yet?"

Joyce doesn't say a word, but it's all the answer he needed. The look on her face says it all; she didn't want to. She was afraid to. But she was also afraid to be in Hawkins. Afraid for her boys being in Hawkins.

And Hopper knew that feeling all too well.

"After Sarah..." he sighs, taking a seat on the ground beside her. "I had to get away... I had to get the hell out of that place, you know? Outrun those, uh... those memories, I guess."

Hopper tries to summon the words but they were having a hard time through the lump in his throat. There wasn't a day that went by he didn't think about his little girl. About what life would have been like had she still been around, how she and El would get along... All of it. But that wasn't the truth, and he knew it.

"I mean, why do you think I ended up back in this shithole?"

Eyes brimming with tears, Hopper peers up at the woman who had wormed her way into his heart all those years ago. She let out a pathetic chuckle, as he did and all he can do is smile weakly up at her.

"But you have something that I never had. You have people that know what you've been through. You have people that care about you. Right here. In Hawkins."

"You mean," she begins, her voice soft and cracked. "You mean, people like Scott Clarke?"

There's a painful silence that Joyce finally puts out of its misery.

"That was a joke," she smiled.

Hopper releases a sharp breath, his eyes fluttering closed in relief and her smile widens just a little further.

"Mm," he groans softly, giving a small laugh.

Lost in the moment and each other's company, they had nearly forgotten where they were had it not been for the sudden clang echoing down the nearby halls.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The Okra Project:

AAIP Mental Health Association

Black Trans Lives Matter Carrd

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

"The Okra Project is a collective that seeks to address the global crisis faced by Black Trans people by bringing home cooked, healthy, and culturally specific meals and resources to Black Trans People wherever we can reach them."

Taglist:

@dickkwad @iblesstherainsdown-in-africa @miscellaneoustoasts @happyandlonely-blog @peeperparkour @ba-responds ​ @bibliophilesquared @blogforhoes @witch-of-all-things-soft @shawkneecaps @whothefuckstolemykeds @daughter-of-the-stars11 ​ @stranger-things4 @kpopanimegirl ​ @nightbu-g @lozzybowe @gizmofishersupremacy @spiderbitch69420

❥ Let me know if you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist! ❥

[rynhaswritersblock]

stolen kisses | p.p.

a/n: y’all i’m home alone and i’m always so productive when home alone so i’m HOPING to get some more requests done but we know me so we’ll just see lol

summary: secret dating always ends in getting caught, especially by a suspicious best friend and a group of superheroes that’s been rooting for you and peter for years.

warnings: uhhhh allusions to sex and petey got a boner in the library! uh oh!

+ + +

it started out with a kiss.

"parker!" you seethe, storming towards his room.

"what?" he yells, voice muffled from the blanket he was hugging, brooklyn nine-nine playing on the tv.

you plant yourself in his doorway, breathing heavily and fire shooting out of your mouth. "guess what sam fucking did? guess!"

peter's eyes widen. "uh, i don't-"

"he ate the last bagel! after i specifically told him i called dibs!" you yell, stomping in and slamming the door behind you. with a huff, you plop down on the bed next to him, pulling some of the blanket out of peter's arms to wrap around you. of course, the scene where charles brought the team bagels is playing. "oh, come on!"

peter just stares at you. you shake your head, bringing your gaze away from the tv to look at the boy. you furrow your brows. "wha-"

peter leans forward, pecking your lips so quickly and abruptly you swear you imagined it. you gape, struggling to find words as you stare at peter, his face immediately getting red. he fumbles over his words. "oh god, i really shouldn't have done that should i-"

you interrupt him by planting your lips on his, the kiss softer and longer than the one prior, making him melt. when you two pull apart, you've got astonished looks on your faces.

"well..."

"do you- uh- do you wanna go buy some bagels?"

after that it was secret hand holding and stolen kisses, dates on the rooftop long after the rest of the team had fallen asleep. neither of you told anyone- how could you? especially after the entire team had been teasing you for so long, both you and peter knew it would only get worse. or they’d kick you out. 

plus, ned would probably blast it around the whole school in the span of one hour, and mj would secretly shame you for your heteronormativity.

so. here you and peter are, the boy cradling you as he clings to the ceiling, cringing as the team walks underneath you. it’s an absolute miracle none of them had seen you yet, desperately sticking to the ceiling after almost being caught in a hallway makeout session. 

peter's hand is still over your mouth as you look over his shoulder and to the end of the hallway. your voice is muffled by his hand. "they're gone."

a sigh falls from his lips and he pulls his hand away, carefully lowering the two of you to the ground. “that was close,” he quips, relieved smile on his lips as he holds your waist. 

“yeah,” you breathe. you play with his curls. “care to join me in my room?”

“definitely.”

+ + +

“i’m gonna, uh, go to the library to get a book,” you say. your heart races as you stand from the table, throwing your bag over your shoulder. “see you guys.”

ned and peter wave while mj nods at you. “see ya...” she’s furrowing her brows.

you begin walking towards the library, mj’s gaze burning into your back. the library is huge and will easily conceal you, thank god. now you wait. 

in a few minutes, peter slips in and finds you hiding amongst the non-fiction books. “holy crap,” he whispers. 

“you get caught?”

“almost,” peter says. “mj was glaring at me. ned was oblivious, though. i said i had to go to the bathroom.”

you hum. “mkay.”

with that, you pull the boy to you, your lips connecting. you sigh contentedly as he pulls you closer, tilting his head to get a better angle. just as he starts kissing along your jaw, you hear someone clear their throat. 

you open your eyes. “mj!”

peter flies off of you, pursing his lips and grabbing his backpack to cover the situation going on down there. you bite back a laugh. now is not the time.

“i knew it!” she exclaims, pointing at you excitedly. the librarian shushes her and she jumps. “you two have been acting so weird lately and i just knew you finally got over yourselves.”

“yeah, yeah, whatever,” peter sighs. 

the three of you walk out of the library, you and peter with burning faces and mj leading the way with a smug grin. ned’s in for one hell of a surprise.

+ + + 

training was one of the many the benefits of hiding your relationship. because the team didn’t know you were dating and because they ship you hard, it was only natural that they paired you up for training. what better way to get the young lovebirds together, right? the two of you knew it was a scheme from the get-go and that they probably watch the security cameras every time you had training together, but you had no complaints. all the more time you get to spend together!

today, though, you and peter got a bit too lost in it.

“fuck you, parker,” you seethe, dodging a punch and landing a kick straight in his gut. 

he winces. “please do. shower after?”

“of course.”

peter nods, spitting off to the side and wiping his mouth, huffing. you quirk a brow at him. a smile pulls at his lips and he shakes his head, launching at you. you quickly flip him over, pinning him to the mat with your hips. “oh, shut up,” he groans, shifting underneath you.

“make me.”

in one swift movement, peter flips the two of you over, sweaty curls flopping over here over his forehead as he hovers above you. “you gonna shut up now, or do i need to go even further?”

“further, i think.”

he laughs before planting his lips on yours. the two of you relax, slipping out of the training mode and getting a bit too lost in each other.

“what... the... hell?”

peter flies off of you (déjà vu!), eyes wide. you shoot up, pulling your knees to your chest and wiping off your mouth. 

oops. 

tony stands in the doorway, frozen, mouth agape. he runs a hand over his mouth, shifting on his feet. “okay, uh, guys?” he calls out to the hallway. “we’ve got a situation!”

you and peter watch in horror as the team rushes in, confused looks on their faces. 

“what is it?” steve asks. 

“i just caught the kid on top of my daughter. they were kissing.” tony spits, beckoning in your direction.

in come a series of reactions from the group. sam, bucky, and scott all burst into laughter, pumping their fists, high-fiving, clapping as they yell excitedly. nat and clint just smirk at each other, and the rest stand with mouths agape.

“so, when did this start? and what is... this..?” rhodey asks, gesturing awkwardly at the two of you and you suck in a breath, looking over at peter.

“we, uh...” peter starts.

“we’ve been dating for a few months.”

the following lecture lasted a solid half hour. but then, the team decided, it was celebration time.

[vicennon]

(long post ahead just completely fucking skip this if you don't wanna read my subjective opinion on literally every single flavor of sans in the universe)

introducing the vi scale of touch-repulsed vs. touch-starved sanses

big number = more touchy

small number = no touchy

Nightmare - Is outright disgusted if you try to hold his hand but will tolerate it for five seconds at a time before flinging you into the sun (He feels like Gak anyway)

Dream - Village treatment lead to a lot of hugs and physical affection, so he's not necessarily opposed to the occasional hug or kiss - but not especially receptive. He'll hug you back, but try not to overwhelm him. He likes to have his space respected. (It's not because he dislikes you! He just doesn't... feel like it!)

Ink - Will taunt you for trying anything with him other than the occasional hug unless it is all prompted by himself. Teases a lot if you complain. (ex. "Wow, you're a simp!" "Jeez, we're a little touchy today!" "Gross, cooties!" "Are you trying to give me the cheese touch...?")

Error - Is neutral with close proximity, but it takes him a long time to grow adjusted at all. Strongly prefers not to touch at all, and will only ever initiate very rarely. If you commentate on it, he'll become very upset and draw away. (Being that he has haphephobia, it's a little iffy putting him on the list at all, considering that his condition would wholeheartedly affect his touch sensitivity. I usually write his haphephobia as painful and anxiety-inducing, so I'm basing this purely on personality and his experience with haphephobia.)

Fell/Red - He's not... opposed. Just neutral. But like... that's not an invitation. Can easily get irritated if you try to touch him too often without his permission. Does accept cuddles.

Swap/Blue - The perfectly room temperature touch-oriented person. A true neutral. But leans towards being more receptive towards physical affection. He's more into cooking or time spent together as a display of affection, though.

Dust - On the same level of neutrality as Swap, but is further inclined towards a consistent hand-holding experience. Can come off as a little bit clingy if you're squinting. He likes to be close, or nearby - to feel your body heat or to just brush his hand against yours. Is afraid of rejection or coming off too clingy, so he often restrains himself and gives others the impression that he hates being touched.

Fresh - Almost true neutral, but leans towards being more receptive. I wanted to put him on the more touch-repulsed end of the scale, but I think he could probably fluctuate quite a bit between wanting and being upset by unsolicited touching. When he's in the mood, he'll be very physically affectionate and lounge all over you. With his height, it's easy to sling his arms around you and waddle around behind you. However, when he's not in the mood to be touched, he'll express it very visibly and become uncomfortable. He's more often receptive than not.

Horror - Seems like he'd kind of be a hug bear or something, but just takes whatever he can get. Like a black hole. If you decide you want to sit on the couch and hug him for several hours, he'll stay right there and enjoy it.

Sans/Classic - Same deal as Horror - but with more sloth involved. Will initiate contact by dragging you into the clutches of the soft and cozy couch like an octopus. Sits on people to keep them from moving, much like a very boney housecat. Mildly inconveniences everyone who crosses his path.

Fellswap/Swapfell - (There's so many variations, I'm sorry FS/SF fans) Generally neutral, but receptive and likes to flick you. Pinches you if you're distracted. Enjoys hugs but doesn't like to hold them for too long. He has too many things to do right now!! If you try to keep him in one place for an extended period of time, he'll grow very irritated and flail about like a fish. He is physically capable of throwing you out a window, don't irk him.

Outer - Is extremely chilled out and a great pillow. Couch time 24/7. Becomes comfortable literally anywhere. He doesn't initiate often if ever, but likes to hold your hand a lot. Can stay holding it for half the day, if you let him.

G - Likes to be casually touchy, but if you commentate on it, he'll get even more touchy. Like a reverse anemone. It's partially to inconvenience you, and partially because he's smug and possessive. (ex. "G, I have to go get my order from the counter, you gotta let go of me." "Oh?" G proceeds to cling, making you drag him with you to the McDonald's cash register. It's embarrassing the first few times, but you can tell him to knock it off and he'll listen.)

Lust - He's a very physically affectionate person - all cheek kisses and absentminded holds, or slinging an arm around your waist to dance with you while you chat. If you let him, he'll carry you around completely unbothered. Fireman carry, over the shoulder, under the arm like a sack of potatoes, holding you like a koala - he's deceptively strong.

Dance - Also a very physically affectionate and deceptively strong person; likes to have his hands innocently placed somewhere on your person. Kind of like he's waiting to start ballroom dancing at any moment, or to throw you into a spin when he's looking for some entertainment. Likes to stand hip-to-hip with an arm around your waist. Slings his arm around your shoulder a lot.

Farmer - Same deal as Horror, but is far more consistent and casual with his touching. Enjoys doing the "wrap from behind" thing, like a backwards hug. If you're both walking to the same spot, he'll take your hand and swing it around wildly to make you laugh. He also likes to hip bump you and give tiny little kisses anywhere he can reach easily.

Epic - Same deal as Sans/Classic - but initiates more often! Surprise hug! Surprise hand grab! Surprise secret handshake! Surprise... kiss? Often devolves into meme-ish shenanigans afterward, like going in for a romantic moment to fake you out with a rubber chicken.

Killer - Is very comfortable with touching and comes off as clingy sometimes. He likes to put his stinky socks in your lap if you're on the couch, or use people as pillows when there's space for him to be touching them. If you're shorter than him, he'll make himself comfortable putting all his weight on your upper half so you might fall over. He'll laze around anywhere and purposefully seeks out people who have things to do and pin them to the floor so he can absorb the body heat out of them. Wildly inconveniences everyone he sees. Will invade your room to take up your entire bed.

Cross - Acts like he doesn't need anyone or any hugs or whatever. "Psshh, who needs hand-holding..." But he's so touch-starved that just being close to him makes him get all gross and gooey inside. Brushes that off too. "Pshh, I'm Cross, I'm too cool for hugs and kisses... but maybe just this once..." Also, he has a body pillow of his idol (who is anyone - cartoon superhero, popstar, his boss, his boss's brother, etc. etc.) Outright denies that he needs you to hold his hand, but only pushes anyone away if someone else is looking. If you're casual with him, he'll slowly start seeking out physical affection like a very shy fish.

i can't think of anyone else right now so send an ask if you want to hear about whoever else you got on the mind

[beckyhop]

Yo I actually wanna hear about the satanic panic

Well, I hope you’re ready for a bit of a long read, then!

(TW for discussions of sexual assault, suicide, and CSA)

Back in the 1980s, there was a big moral panic that Satanic cults were on the rise and were brainwashing, kidnapping, raping, and killing people, especially children. I don't think there was one single reason this all happened, but a lot of factors played a part in it:

This was around the time evangelical, conservative Christianity was getting a mainstream foothold in politics (remember, this was the Reagan and Thatcher era), so people were listening to them more.

There were new, "occult" or "demonic" interests among teens and young adults, such as heavy metal music, darker superhero comics, and Dungeons and Dragons. Even G-rated fantasy/horror-themed cartoons like He-Man, Thundercats, or 13 Ghosts of Scooby-Doo got backlash from religious folk who accused them of promoting "occult" practices.

The New Age movement had introduced Eastern spiritual practices to the West, which naturally scared a lot of more traditional Christians afraid of "evil" foreign religions. In addition, Anton LaVey’s Satanic Bible saw a big surge in popularity after its 1969 publication. There was probably also a lingering fear of cults in general in the years after the infamous Jonestown mass suicide and the Manson Family murders.

With an increase in working parents sending their kids off to daycare, there was a related panic that daycare workers were abusing children in basically every way possible, and several of these accusations conflated into "these daycares are actually covers for Satanic cults that sacrifice and recruit children". Now while it's generally a good practice to believe victims of sexual abuse when they speak up, it was found out in most of these cases that the kids had been interrogated very poorly, as they would just tell the adults what they "wanted” to hear so they could be rewarded and get out of the interrogation quicker. A prime example of this were the interrogations in the infamous McMartin Preschool case, where the therapist in question was unlicensed with no formal psychiatric education and pressured the kids into making up outlandish claims such as the daycare workers flushing kids down toilets and even making themselves fly.

Psychiatrists were learning how to deal with repressed memories and Dissociative Identity Disorder (then called Multiple Personality Disorder), but it's now believed that their then-poorer understanding of memory and DID may have caused some doctors to lead patients to remember Satanic ritual abuse that had never actually happened. One good example of this is the book Michelle Remembers, written by Canadian psychiatrist Lawrence Pazder, which details his patient Michelle Smith’s supposed memories of Satanic ritual abuse; it became apparent after the book’s publication that a lot of Michelle’s “memories” were outright lies, and some of the “Satanic” rituals were actually based on West African religious rituals. Also, Pazder himself would later marry Michelle despite being her therapist, so...ew. 

Because of all this, you had a swell of people accusing various groups and individuals of being child-snatching woman-murdering Satanists, sometimes with a touch of xenophobia or homophobia thrown into the mix. There were even prominent Christian figures who claimed to have special insight into the occult as "former" Satanists (the most famous example being Mike Warnke, who turned out to have made up his entire claim of being a former Satanic high priest before he became born-again). And yes, you would get the occasional real murderer who would claim to be Satanist, but how is that different from the numerous murderers who are associated with other religions? 

Side notes: One common claim as to how all these supposed sacrifices were occurring without drawing public attention or without bodies being found was “they eat and burn the remains!”. If you know anything about cremation, the temperatures required for the process, and what gets left behind after a cremation, you’d already see the holes in that argument. Also, a lot of panickers claimed that Satanists loved to drink/eat feces and urine in their rituals along with blood; I’m pretty sure that’s not common Satanic practice, but it does sound like something I’d have to turn off SafeSearch to find.

Eventually society calmed down as conservatives lost their grip on politics, mental health became better understood, the aforementioned "occult" media became more mainstream, and most of the daycare workers accused of abuse were found not guilty. You still had/have evangelicals get attention for screaming about "demonic" children's media (Harry Potter and Pokemon got that backlash in the late 90s/early 2000s, for example), but it's not really on the same level as it was in the 1980s/early 1990s.

Anyway, if you want some further reading/viewing…

A Vox article detailing the Panic even better than I can, which links to even more resources throughout

Retro Report’s videos on the McMartin Preschool scandal AND Dungeons and Dragons’ early controversies

In the early 90s, PBS’ Frontline produced a report on patients who left psychiatrists that had misdiagnosed them as being involved in Satanic ritual abuse, titled “The Search for Satan”

And if you want examples of some of the really off-the-wall propaganda the Panic produced...

Pretty much any Jack Chick tract produced during this time would count, most notably the infamous anti-D&D tract Dark Dungeons

Video guides were even made for police departments to combat this supposed threat, the most notable one being Law Enforcement Guide to Satanic Cults (yes, this is the one Red Letter Media covered

The YouTube channel Occult Demon Cassette collects an amazing amount of old VHS stuff, and they’ve found so much weird Satanic Panic propaganda, including:

Deception of a Generation (the infamous video where two grown men speculate on how evil children’s toys and cartoons are)

Kids and the Occult

The Fantasy Explosion

Doorways to Danger

In the Name of Satan

Satanic Cults and Ritual Crime (another law enforcement guide!)

UPC Codes and 666 (again, I believe RLM found this one too)

Devil Worship: The Rise of Satanism (produced by Jeremiah Films, a practical factory of weird and wild anti-pagan anti-atheist “documentaries”)

The Pagan Invasion, Vol. 1: Halloween, Trick or Treat (another Jeremiah Films production!)

Even mainstream news media at the time got in on the action!

Most notably, Geraldo Rivera, he of the empty Al Capone vault, busted nose, and current bad Twitter takes, produced an entire TV special dedicated to how Satanic crime was supposedly on the rise titled Devil Worship: Exposing Satan’s Underground. Of note is that, out of all the interview subjects Geraldo features, Ozzy Osbourne is by far the most level-headed.

20/20 also produced a segment on Satanism titled simply The Devil Worshippers. Doesn’t get as bonkers as the Geraldo one, but it’s there if you want to see it.

In conclusion:

[angelofthequeers]

Bullseye

Rating: T

Summary: Nino's invited his friends for a nice night of darts with him and his father. Nothing could possibly go wrong...right?

Slot: 1-2.5k fic

Written for an anonymous donator for the @mlbforblm drive as a pool request!  The donations go directly to Color of Change, an organisation for racial justice, and don’t pass through our hands at all. I’ve still got slots open, so come and commission me or another of the amazing contributors!

AO3 link

“I can’t believe you guys agreed to this,” Nino says as he follows his father Mehdi into the small building, Alya’s fingers linked with his. Marinette and Adrien trail behind, murmuring to each other about something to do with roofs and picnics, but Nino doesn’t pay them much mind because short of being secret superheroes, there’s not much they can do about a rooftop picnic. Hmm. Maybe he should ask Ladybug for their Miraculouses and take Alya on a rooftop picnic one night. Alya’s always loved leaping and sprinting through the city, with the wind streaming through her bushy brown ponytail, and his stomach flutters at the memory of Rena Rouge’s impish grin during their flirtatious banter, while Chat Noir turns his charms on Ladybug, and she facepalms –

“Like we were gonna leave you to deal with this by yourself,” Alya’s saying when Nino finally manages to drag himself back down to earth. “You’ve helped me babysit the little demons so many times. What’s one night of darts?”

“Trust me, dude, after this, you’ll be begging for a whole week with E-squared,” Nino says. Alya rolls her eyes at his nickname for her sisters, but her mouth twitches so he figures he’s not in too much trouble. “He reckons he’s the next Phil Taylor.”

“That doesn’t seem so bad,” Adrien pipes up.

“Do you wanna know how many times he doesn’t hit the dart board? And then says that he’s just waiting for his lucky break?”

“…Oh.”

The pub is small and brightly lit without being overwhelming, giving it a nice, cosy air that always leaves Nino in a good mood even with his father acting like he’s two seconds away from representing France in the Olympics. The bartender waves at them as they head for the little party of fellow darts club members near the darts board, weaving between tables – or, in Marinette’s case, being piggybacked by Adrien as though they’re in a minefield, so that she doesn’t trip and cause a minor earthquake with her clumsiness. Though Marinette’s scowling rather grumpily, Nino’s certain that she’s not actually mad at being carried; not when it’s Adrien who’s carrying her, without treating her like a fragile porcelain doll.

“Nino!” Beefy Henri grins and holds out a fist for Nino to bump. “Brought some fresh meat, eh?”

“Yeah.” Nino laughs and scratches the back of his head with his free hand. “This is my girl, Alya. And the two behind us are Adrien and Marinette.”

“We wanted to see the next Phil Taylor for ourselves,” Alya says, nudging Nino. Henri eyes Mehdi, who’s chatting up a storm with the other club members, and snorts.

“You’ll be waiting a while then, girlie,” he says. Alya smirks.

“Good thing I plan on sticking around for a while, then.”

Oh. Nino’s stomach flutters at the implication of Alya’s words. God, how he loves this girl.

“Darts!” Mehdi holds up a dart and turns to face the teens. “How about we give the guests of honour first go?”

“Um, I think I’ll just watch,” Marinette says with a nervous laugh. Mehdi shakes his head.

“Nonsense!”

“But I’m –”

“Come on and let the master show you!”

Marinette shoots a wide-eyed look at Nino, then gulps and approaches Mehdi, while Adrien sidles over to stand with Nino, Alya, and Henri near the board. Nino instinctively takes a step away. He loves Marinette, he really does, but there’s no way he’s going to entrust her with his safety when she’s got a sharp object in her hands.

“Remember that it’s all in the movement,” Mehdi says. “Feet apart!”

Marinette visibly resigns herself to her fate and spreads her feet. Mehdi pauses with his hands just above her shoulders until she nods, then guides her so that she’s side-on from the dartboard with her right foot forward.

“Now, make sure you’re holding the barrel.”

“The what?”

In response, Mehdi positions Marinette’s fingers around the barrel of the dart, then lifts her right arm so that her forearm is at a square angle to her face.

“Don’t hold it too tight,” Mehdi says. “Just take aim…and shoot!”

Right before Marinette releases the dart, a feeling of cold foreboding washes over Nino; the kind of foreboding that one gets when their life is about to flash before their eyes. He jumps back behind Henri and pulls Alya with him, leaving poor Adrien as the unsuspecting sacrifice who’s grinning and cheering Marinette on as she squares her shoulders and then throws with determination.

THOCK.

Alya’s hands fly up to cover her mouth, muffling her choked gasp, while Nino’s eyes bulge out of his head. Every other person in the room is deathly silent. Hell, a white-faced Marinette doesn’t even look like she’s breathing.

“Oh my god,” she whispers. “Oh my god!”

“What?” says Adrien, while everyone else stares at him. Nino’s about two seconds from asking if there’s a Unicorn Miraculous, because if he had to think of a piece of magic jewellery for Adrien right now, that’d be his pick.

“You’ve –” Nino numbly gestures to his own head. “You’ve got –”

Adrien just blinks and frowns. How he can’t feel the dart that’s sticking out of his forehead, Nino has no bloody clue. Alya, meanwhile, is shaking as though she can’t decide whether to laugh or freak out. Probably the latter, considering that she hasn’t even pulled out her phone to snap pictures.

“Um,” Mehdi says. “This isn’t what I –”

“Oh my god, it’s in your forehead!” Marinette shrieks. Adrien blinks again and reaches up to fumble for the dart sticking out of the skin of his brow.

“Huh,” he says. “So it is.”

That seems to be Alya’s breaking point; she bursts into hysterical laughter and doubles over, clutching at one of the tables for support. Nino’s unsure whether he’ll ever feel anything again other than the dumbstruck numbness currently settling on him, while Marinette’s face is turning a nice shade of green à la Carapace’s suit.

“Dude,” Nino says. “How the hell are you fine?”

Adrien shrugs. “I can’t even feel it, to be honest. I’ve had worse.”

“Oh, I bet you have!” Marinette shrieks at him. She storms over and jabs a finger at his chest. “I’m sure one measly dart is nothing to you!”

Adrien grins in an uncanny imitation of Chat Noir’s smirk. “Hey, if you wanted to prick me, all you had to do was –”

Marinette yanks the dart out of Adrien’s head and then tugs him clean over her shoulder. “Sorry to cut this short,” she says to Nino, suddenly dead calm except for the way her right eye is twitching. “Adrien and I have some things to discuss. I’m sorry for ruining your night, Mr Lahiffe.”

Alya collapses to the ground as her laughter redoubles.

“Ruined?” Mehdi says, grinning despite the dark skin beneath his beard still holding an ashen hue. Now that they’re sure Adrien’s okay, the atmosphere of the group is lightening to one of mirth rather than horror. “I hardly think you ruined it. That’s the funniest thing I’ve seen in, well…I don’t remember.”

“Mehdi really is the next Phil Taylor compared to this young lady,” says another club member – Adeline – and then the room is full of explosive laughter. Adrien just looks back over Marinette’s shoulder and grins and salutes, and Nino almost chokes on his own saliva trying not to laugh, because Marinette will skin him alive if he encourages her boyfriend’s idiocy.

“Looks like Adrien and I are going to bounce,” Marinette says almost serenely. “Sorry to ditch you and Alya.”

“I don’t think Alya really cares at the moment, dude,” Nino says, eyeing his hysterical girlfriend. “Just, uh, make sure my bro’s still in one piece?”

Marinette smiles. “Oh, of course. Have a good night, Nino.” Then she’s deftly navigating through the maze of bar tables with Adrien still over her shoulder, smirking back at Nino, like she hadn’t been the one carried on Adrien’s back on the way in to avoid a disaster. It’s like she’s got an alter-ego who’s taken over right now, to be honest.

“Man, I need a drink,” Nino mumbles, wishing that he wasn’t still two years below the age limit. Between this and his moonlighting as a human turtle every now and then with his furry fox girlfriend, there’s probably not much more that life could throw at him from here on. But he’s got no doubt that it’ll try its best.

[quicksilversquared]

The Wavering Peahen: Chapter 3

When Nathalie started feeling oddly ill again, both she and Gabriel were worried that the Peacock Miraculous might somehow (impossibly) be to blame again.

So naturally, they pick someone else to be the Peacock for a bit. You know, as a test subject. Except the new Peacock… doesn’t exactly know that.

links in the reblog

When news of an akuma attack reached Lila, she barely bit back a cheer. In the couple days since she got the Peacock, she had been waiting for this moment.

Ladybug would be going down today.

A glance at the clock told Lila that she had plenty of time before her mom came home- honestly, Hawkmoth had timed the attack perfectly because she didn't have to make excuses to get out of class or get away from her mom- and then she transformed. The magic rushed over her- it wasn't a completely new sensation, she had tried doing it before- and then Pavona rushed out the window, heading towards the battle. It was a loud one, and unsurprisingly, the superheroes were already there. Hawkmoth wasn't, not yet- he tended to show up later in the fight when he did go out, so that didn't mean anything- so it was going to be two on two, at least until she pulled out her amok.

Lila didn't want to do that too early. She apparently was going to have that ridiculous five-minute timer like Ladybug and Chat Noir, so getting her sentimonster out too soon would mean that she wouldn't be able to stay on the battlefield and kick superhero butt. Apparently Mayura hadn't had that particular drawback, which was both annoying and unfair, but there was nothing that Lila could do about that.

It was absolutely child's play to sneak up behind the superheroes, dodging over the rooftops and not flinging herself up into the sky like the superheroes always seemed to. Pavona smirked as she slid into position, right above Ladybug.

This was just too easy. The superheroes hadn't spotted her at all. Really, all she needed to do was pounce and fall directly on top of Ladybug and then grab her earrings. Just like that, it would be bye-bye, little bug.

Sure, there would still be Chat Noir to deal with, but it was pretty obvious to anyone with eyes that he always took direction from Ladybug. With her out of the picture, it should be pretty easy to lure Chat Noir into a trap and take him down with the sheer force of numbers. Four against one- her, Hawkmoth, his akuma and her amok- would be overwhelming, and then they would have the Cat Miraculous in their hands.

With visions of victory in her head, Pavona took a couple steps back before taking a running start and launching herself into the air, dropping through the sky straight at Ladybug's head.

Impact in eight- seven- six- five- four- three-

"Ladybug, watch out!"

Ladybug jerked in response to Chat Noir's shout, not even hesitating to figure out which way the threat was coming from before bolting, going from a standstill to a speeding train in half a second. All of a sudden, Pavona's target was gone, leaving nothing between her and the very solid street and no time for her to catch herself.

Crunch.

So much for an awe-inspiring (or fear-inspiring) entrance.

Cursing, Pavona shoved herself to her feet before the superheroes could turn on her, raising her hands into what she hoped was a battle stance. Across from her, Ladybug had already spun around to face Pavona, her yo-yo whistling as it spun. The superhero's eyes flashed over Pavona once, twice, and then her eyebrows went up and she exchanged a fast look with Chat Noir.

Pavona scowled. What kind of look was that? It seemed super judgy, which- uh, what was Ladybug judging her for? She had seen the superheroes do undignified wipeouts loads of times.

(She also had a compilation of those clips on her computer, just for amusement's sake. She had intended on stringing them together in a video, but she didn't know how to do that and it really wouldn't be possible to ask any of her classmates, since it would just look suspicious.)

"So Hawkmoth has a new little sidekick," Ladybug taunted, her eyes narrowing at Pavona and- ugh, she was smirking! Clearly she wasn't going to take Pavona seriously as a threat. "What happened to Mayura?"

"Like I'm gonna tell you," Pavona snarked back, plastering on her own smirk. Ladybug didn't know what was about to hit her. Lila had been plenty powerful as an akuma, so it only made sense that she would be even more powerful when she had the full strength of a Miraculous on her side instead of just whatever portion she got as an akuma. "You're gonna be wishing that she was still here soon, though, just wait!"

Chat Noir snorted. "Yeah, we'll see about that." He glanced over to Ladybug. "D'you wanna take the akuma while I take Princess Wannabe here?"

"You got it!"

"Wait, no-" Pavona started before catching herself. She should have guessed that Chat Noir would take on the more intimidating threat and leave the weaker opponent to Ladybug. Fine. She would just take him down first, then. That, or at least keep him occupied enough that he wouldn't be able to come to Ladybug's aid when the akuma overpowered her-

Pavona couldn't hold back the yelp as she was suddenly forced to defend herself from a too-sudden attack from Chat Noir. He had lunged before she was ready, and now she was forced to be on the defense instead of being the one to push the attacks.

One blow, then two, three, four-and-five too fast to count. Pavona couldn't help but yelp again as the butt end of Chat Noir's baton swung around and jabbed her in the stomach, too fast of a movement to follow. She barely ducked the swing at her head- she hadn't asked Hawkmoth how much the suit protected her against other users, and clearly that was a major oversight- and found herself scrambling backwards on sheer instinct, everything in her screaming that she was outmatched.

Which- which was ridiculous, if she thought about it logically! She was smart! She was crafty! The superheroes had struggled to win against her akuma forms! It was just that she was having to rely on hand-to-hand combat instead of having powers, which was an adjustment, and-

-and there was no time for thinking about it too much, because Chat Noir wasn't letting up in his attack at all. Pavona was sent flying with one blow, then had to roll out of the way of another full-force blow. The next hit so close under her ear that her hair gave her scalp a sharp tug as it went flying.

Pavona dashed out of the way, getting in a couple unaimed swings and buying herself a little space. Chat Noir was relentless, though, and she was getting outfought.

Just because she kept reflexively trying to use powers that she didn't have anymore, that was why! It wasn't because he was better or anything stupid like that.

Still, she hadn't been expecting that, and staying out like this wouldn't go very well. Pavona flicked out her fan, pulling out a feather like Duusu had told her to do. Then she would have to- to pull in negative energy from the air? That part hadn't been very clear-

And then that thought, too, got interrupted when she had to dodge out of the way of another of Chat Noir's blows and then he promptly grabbed her by the bottom of her skirt as she fled and flung her into the sky, tumbling head over heels down the street. Pavona landed with another oomph, rolling over to see Chat Noir dashing down to road towards her, ready to hit her again.

It was now or never. Only half-focused on what she was doing, Pavona tried to pull in negative energy- and clearly something was happening, the feather was changing colors- and then slapped it into the closest thing she could reach.

Unfortunately, that thing was a bit of broken asphalt, but it would have to do. A monster erupted out of nowhere, pushing Chat Noir back. Pavona smirked in triumph- now the fight could go her way!- before a sharp beep from her brooch wiped the smirk off of her face.

Right. Now she just had five minutes to defeat Chat Noir and get out. That wasn't exactly the best position to be in.

"Get back, ugly!" Chat Noir yelled at the sentimonster, whacking the whatever-it-was in the face with his baton. He spun it, hitting it again. And again, and again, and again.

He was actually pushing it back, Pavona realized with a bit of horror. Even though her sentimonster looked intimidating, it was shying away from the hits, continuously losing ground. Pavona moved back as well, trying to keep her creation between her and the superhero while she figured out a new plan of attack.

Her brooch beeped. Four minutes.

Pavona scowled, readying her weapon again as Chat Noir advanced another couple of steps. Maybe if she jumped over her sentimonster and dropped down on him? Or she could try to circle to the side without being noticed, or- no!

While she had been distracted, Chat Noir had pushed far enough forward to grab the bit of pavement that she had possessed with the amok- and had dropped right after, that hadn't been the best plan- and crushed it, letting the feather loose. Barely a moment later, Ladybug's yo-yo zipped out of nowhere, snagging the feather and purifying it. Pavona glanced in her direction, utterly baffled- Ladybug was supposed to be busy with the akuma, right?- to see the formerly akumatized person sitting on a rooftop, just recently defeated. Somehow, without Pavona realizing it, Ladybug had won. Now, it was two against one, and not in her favor.

As her sentimonster dissolved, Pavona bolted, scrambling for somewhere to hide and detransform. She might have to walk home, but that was better than getting ganged up on and possibly even defeated.

Ladybug and Chat Noir might have won this battle, but it had only been Pavona's first time out. Next time, she would know what to expect. She would be ready.

And Ladybug would be going down.

  Things really weren't going as Lila had planned. Not even remotely close.

"I can't believe we haven't won yet," Lila muttered as she slumped to the floor in her room after coming back following a fight. It had been almost a week- and seven akuma attacks, Hawkmoth had decided to pick up the pace- since she took over as the Peacock holder, and they hadn't made any progress towards defeating the superheroes, even though she had definitely (in her eyes, at least) already made a lot of progress with getting used to her powers and fighting. "That's so annoying!"

"Well, Hawkmoth has been trying to win for over a year now without any success," Duusu piped up, ever-helpful and ever-missing-the-point. "So a week is hardly any time at all!"

Lila scowled. That was entirely unhelpful.

She was used to getting results right away, darn it. Lila's lies had always brought her instant (or near-instant) gratification. She did something or said something, she got a positive result within minutes, or at least within a day. Having to work at it for any significant amount of time without seeing results wasn't something that she was really used to doing.

But she wasn't going to give up. She still had some ideas that she wanted to try out but hadn't yet, since she was still getting used to her powers. All she had needed was a little practice, and then she could truly be Ladybug's worst nightmare.

It was just annoying that it wasn't happening faster.

Still scowling, Lila headed over to her computer. The news feed on it was still going, left on after she had used it to figure out where the akuma was and what its powers were. Madam Chamack was still talking onscreen, so Lila popped her headphones back on. She immediately regretted it.

"-so glad that we have our fantastic superheroes to always save the day," Madam Chamack was saying, beaming at the camera. "A big thanks to them! And now, for those of you who missed it, our lovely editors have put together a highlight reel of our most recent akuma attack!"

Onscreen, Madam Chamack's face was replaced by a scene from the akuma attack. Pavona stood tall and proud on a rooftop, her (very fashionable) outfit fluttering a little with the breeze. Then the superheroes landed and she charged... only for her face to be met by a very solid roundhouse kick from Ladybug. Pavona went flying back, landing on her back in an undignified heap.

Lila's teeth ground together. Ladybug looked positively smug as she dashed towards the fallen Pavona, clearly ready to deal another blow to her opponent. The scene was cut short, though, swapping to a shot of Chat Noir tripping the akuma with his baton, and Lila smirked when she realized why.

Yes, Ladybug getting tossed off of a rooftop by Hawkmoth probably wasn't considered a highlight to most of Paris, was it? Unfortunate. Lila certainly considered those parts to be the best sections of the fight.

Disappointingly, the rest of the highlight reel went the same way. It showed the akuma getting beat up, Pavona getting beat up, Pavona getting cornered and panic-creating what was probably her weakest sentimonster yet to get herself out. The cameras had also caught Pavona's childish frustrated stomp after Hawkmoth had ordered her to retreat, which...

Well, it wasn't a shining moment of hers. But in her defense, she had just been making some progress with fighting Ladybug when Chat Noir totally cheated and attacked her from behind. It hadn't been like she had just been sitting on the ground and flailing helplessly or something.

If it was just her and her sentimonster against Ladybug, she would definitely win. But did anyone ever acknowledge that? No.

With a huff, Lila closed the window. Madam Chamack's voice cut off, and Lila breathed a sigh of relief that she no longer had to hear the absolutely maddening gushing over Ladybug. That relief was short-lived when her phone dinged with a message from Alya. Lila opened it, eager for something to distract her from her latest failure, only to see a message squealing about the latest fight and hadn't Ladybug looked so amazing as she took down Hawkmoth's newest sidekick?

Ugh. It was unfortunate that Alya was such a Ladybug fan, but it was an unavoidable annoyance. Alya had visibility thanks to her little blog, and that visibility was something that Lila needed access to. So she had to play the part of Ladybug's best friend (ha) to keep Alya firmly by her side and hanging off of Lila's every word.

Which meant, unfortunately, that Lila had to grit her teeth and type back an all-too-cheery response, praising Ladybug and her fighting prowess. She couldn't resist a dig, though, by pointing out how nice Pavona's outfit looked next to Ladybug's. She had offered to redesign Ladybug's suit for her before, of course, but the superhero was just too attached to her basic look. Maybe now she would reconsider, since the supervillains looked so well-dressed next to her!

Smirking, Lila set her phone aside. Maybe the Ladyblog would run an article soon calling out the plainness of Ladybug's costume. It wouldn't be framed like that, of course, but- well, maybe Alya would do a comparison of the superheroes' costumes and the supervillain's outfits? Anyone with eyes would be able to tell that the supervillains had far more fashion sense. They didn't look like they had slapped on a onesie and called it a day.

"Next time, I'll do better," Lila told the room at large, pulling up a secret file on her computer buried several folders deep. It was where she stored all of her notes to herself about her secret identity, the few suggestions that Hawkmoth had given her and ideas she had come up with for sentimonster powers. "I'll do better, and I'll show the superheroes. They'll regret crossing me!"

Next time, she would pull out one of her best sentimonster ideas. It would be too slippery for Ladybug and Chat Noir to catch, and then while they were scratching their heads, she could sneak in behind them and get their Miraculous. Maybe today's weak sentimonster could actually work in her favor by making the superheroes underestimate her for the next fight. She just had to take advantage of that and hit hard, and hope that Hawkmoth would match her with a really strong akuma. Maybe she could talk to him and coordinate the powers for maximum effect- except no, he had seemed rather peeved at her after the fight. It wouldn't be smart for her to push her luck-

The thought was cut off by a sudden tickle in Lila's throat and suddenly she found herself coughing so hard that her eyes watered. Her breath caught painfully in her throat, and it took her a minute to stop coughing. When she did, she frowned.

That was strange and completely out of nowhere. She hadn't been eating or drinking anything, so she hadn't swallowed water or something wrong. She hadn't been sick, and- despite what she said at school- she didn't have allergies. There hadn't been any dust stirred up in her room, so it couldn't be that, either.

Maybe it was just a weird one-off thing and she shouldn't worry about it.

Her phone dinged again, and Lila reached out to grab it, opening up the message right away.

Alya: Superheroes: function over fashion. Supervillains: fashion over function. That could be a really cool Ladyblog article! It really shows how much smarter our superheroes are compared to the supervillains!

Lila could only bury her face in her pillows and scream. That was not the way she had wanted Alya to go with that idea!

Seriously, why was nothing going her way today?

  Another week later, and Lila's partnership with Hawkmoth had gone from bad to worse.

All of her best sentimonster ideas had been completely wasted after their powers completely clashed with the akuma of the day's powers. She had abandoned pre-brainstormed ideas after a particularly disastrous one, going back to looking at what Hawkmoth's akuma could do and then basing her sentimonster off of that. Still, even with that, they weren't doing as well as Hawkmoth had been doing with Mayura, which- well, it was infuriating.

Hawkmoth had even chewed Lila out several times during the week for needing to be rescued during the battles- by her sentimonster, by his akuma, even, on one occasion, by Hawkmoth himself- for taking "unnecessary risks" (really, calculated gambles that just hadn't gone quite right, usually because he and his akuma hadn't cooperated with her or because she had been up late plotting and was super-tired during the battle) and getting overpowered by the more experienced fighters, aka the pain-in-the-butt superheroes. He hadn't been pleased about that, and after their most recent battle, he had ordered her to stay on the back lines now or else and just let her sentimonster do the fighting for her.

That- that was so unfair, really! It had made her so mad that she had stomped around her room for two hours, mad enough to be akumatized... but Hawkmoth hadn't sent a butterfly her way. Which was probably wise, because more than a little of her ire at the time had been directed straight at him.

Really, she couldn't figure out why things weren't working out right! Lila had held her own as an akuma every time she got akumatized. Sure, maybe she had always lost in the end, but she hadn't had the advantage of getting to work with a sentimonster. The battles with her had always dragged out, because she was smart and clever and capable and a good fighter! It made absolutely no sense that she was getting her butt handed to her by Ladybug now that she held her own Miraculous. She had said as much to Hawkmoth when he last scolded her, and he had just chewed her out more for expecting that she would get the same boost in fighting instincts from a Miraculous as she had from an akumatization.

Needless to say, it wasn't looking good for her chances of getting a Miraculous as a thanks once the superheroes got defeated. Even if she got to play a role in that defeat, Lila was getting the feeling that Hawkmoth was starting to get tired of her and her disappointing performances out on the battlefield.

Really, though, was it truly Lila's fault that she struggled with fighting? Shouldn't Hawkmoth have given her some training or something first instead of just handing her a bit of magical jewelry- magical jewelry that apparently didn't boost her fighting ability, that would have been useful information from the start!- and sending her out against superheroes that had had over a year's experience with battling akumas and supervillains alike? He was practically setting her up to fail when she looked at it like that! And when she asked about training- like a responsible person, like a motivated person- he had just blown her off.

Seriously. Setting her up to fail. And Lila was positive that with a little training, she would be able to take on the superheroes and win, no problem. It would totally even out the battlefield! The problem was that she didn't have any training, and apparently wasn't about to get any, either.

Honestly, was Hawkmoth serious about wanting to win or not? Because he really wasn't acting like it, what with not wanting to train her at all.

And then, because apparently things were determined not to go her way, Lila was coming down with something. She had been feeling a little woozy sometimes for the last couple of days, and had been coughing, too, with the coughing fits becoming more and more frequent.

Lila refused to let Hawkmoth know. She couldn't let him think that she was weak and take the Miraculous away or something, just because she wasn't at 100%.

Maybe it was for the better that Hawkmoth had banned her from the battlefield for the time being. If her stupid cold distracted her mid-fight and made her lose, then Hawkmoth would be furious. It wouldn't matter that it wasn't her fault that she was sick, or that she had been willing to power through whatever bug was attacking her system to help him. No, all Hawkmoth would care about was how she had inconvenienced him.

Really, he was a super sucky person to be on a team with, but Lila wasn't about to quit. She had joined him with a goal in mind, darn it, and she wouldn't waste her opportunity.

Maybe Hawkmoth sucked, but he wasn't call-out-her-civilian-self-for-lying-when-it-wasn't-hurting-anyone levels of suck. Not yet, at least. He was kind of trending in that direction, though.

"Stupid Ladybug, stupid Chat Noir, stupid cold," Lila grumbled to herself as she downed half of her travel cup of tea in one go, hoping to ease her sore throat. She had taken the opportunity to leave the school campus at lunch to get tea in a nearby cafe in the hopes that it would help, but- well, she was pretty sure that the overly-hot tea had just burned her tongue. Which was exactly the opposite of helping. "And stupid-" She bit back the stupid Hawkmoth before it could slip. She didn't know how much Duusu would report to Hawkmoth when Mayura took him back, but she didn't want to accidentally sabotage her chances of working with him again after this, whether that was just as a frequently akumatized person or with a different Miraculous, if they managed to steal one of the temporary heroes' Miraculous. Sure, he had seen her curse Hawkmoth out before, right after he banned her from coming out in person, but she had managed to wave that away as a temporary surge of annoyance, a feeling that would be gone soon enough. Besides, there was no obvious connection between her anger at him now and what had actually happened. Hawkmoth hadn't given her the cold, after all. "Ugh. This is no fun."

"At least your friends seem eager to help!" Duusu chirped from her shirt collar. "Three have offered to help you study, and then another offered to let you copy her homework if you aren't feeling well enough to finish! They're very supportive."

Lila resisted the urge to curl her lip at the kwami. Seriously, wasn't Duusu supposed to be some wise, ancient being? Shouldn't it be obvious to him by now that her classmates weren't really her friends? Sure, they probably thought that they were, but all they were to her was a means to an end. And of course they were tripping over themselves to help her.

Poor, unfortunate Lila. She spent so much time helping charities and doing good things for others and what did she get in return? Hearing loss and tinnitus and weak joints and illnesses affecting her more than most people. She was already struggling to keep up, what with all of the other things that she was trying to juggle, so of course it made sense for her classmates to step up and help her so that Lila could continue to be a force for good in the world.

Not, of course, that she was actually out helping people. Volunteering and organizing charities and donating and all of that- well, that was work. Work that wouldn't benefit her in any way and would just unnecessarily fill up her time. Why should other people's suffering be her problem?

It worked just as well to just claim that she was volunteering and helping other people out. She got all of the glory with none of the work, which was a rather good arrangement in her opinion.

(What wasn't a good arrangement, at least in Lila's eyes, was having to deal with an annoying flying sidekick to get her magical powers. Duusu was super annoying and always wanted to know what she was doing and always asked about the stories she told and seemed quite puzzled when Lila told him that no, that one wasn't true either.

She didn't need a small anthropomorphic being questioning why she was making up stories. It wasn't like it was any of Duusu's business anyway.)

Lila left the cafe partway through her lunch hour after she had started coughing and everyone around her started giving her a major side-eye. She resisted the urge to glare at them- seriously, couldn't they mind their own business? It wasn't like she was coughing at them- and packed up instead, heading out to a quiet park to finish nursing her cup of tea, hoping that it would make a difference. On the way back to school, she picked up a cup of coffee.

Hawkmoth had decided to wake the whole city up with a crazy early attack, after all. Maybe she needed the tea for her throat- it had felt absolutely terrible after the fight, even though she hadn't done any fighting in person- but she needed coffee so that she wouldn't fall asleep in her afternoon classes. If she did, her mom would probably be called and then that would be the end of- well, her reign at school, probably.

She didn't want her mom anywhere near her teachers, thank-you-very-much.

"Oh, you already picked up a drink," Rose said when Lila got back to school, already regretting drinking so much. She was going to be running to the bathroom all afternoon. Rose looked a bit disappointed as she rolled up onto her toes to look into Lila's cup, clutching a thermos in her hand. "I made some tea for you! It's probably better for your throat than coffee."

Lila opened her mouth, very ready to make up something about not being able to have tea, when she suddenly became very aware about how very much her throat still hurt.

...maybe she could get away with frequent bathroom trips without the teachers calling her mom.

"Thank you, Rose, you're so kind!" Lila exclaimed, pressing her free hand to her heart. "So kind and thoughtful! That thermos looks really well insulated, so hopefully it'll stay warm longer. Then I can have warm drinks all afternoon! That will be really nice. And hopefully it will help my throat get better before my conference call with the royal family in England this weekend. I want to persuade them to help with my efforts to end global pollution, and I won't be able to cover all of my points if I lose my voice!"

"Oh, that would be terrible," Rose agreed, passing the thermos over to her. "I hope you feel better soon!"

Lila smiled, accepting the tea. "Thank you!"

Thankfully, Rose took off back to her desk after that and Lila could largely drop her act. She couldn't drop it completely- acting anywhere near as sullen as she felt would damage her public image, and that was the one thing she couldn't risk- but she didn't have to pretend to be all perky and thankful and selfless.

It wasn't that hard to keep up the act on a normal day, but when Lila was already frustrated and angry and feeling sick, it was just that much more energy that she didn't have.

Ugh. How unlucky did she have to be to get sick right in the middle of her big opportunity with Hawkmoth?

That was so unfair.

[beccarooni]

Thorbruce cuddling fic?

(A.N: wow this one has been waiting a long time! I'm sorry it took me forever, but I hope you enjoy the fic and anyone else I do take requests!)

Bruce knew he shouldn't have agreed to watch horror movies with Tony. It had been late, the long night at the lab stretching into an early morning, and he knew he should've been getting to bed. 

But, the billionaire didn't seem to want to settle down quite yet. And so, who was Bruce to say no, really? 

Not a lot of people could say no to Tony Stark - not when he turned those big brown eyes on you and claimed he didn't want to be alone for the night. 

Bruce didn't want to be alone either. And so, he'd said yes. Obviously. 

And then Tony had put on some cheesy horror flick from the 80s, and Bruce had said, 'yes, of course'. He'd seen aliens invade New York, he transformed into a giant green monster sometimes on the daily. Suffice it to say, he'd seen enough to not get jumpy at horror movies anymore. 

The weather didn't help much. Cracks of lightning forked against the sky, wind howled, and rain pattered almost horizontally across the large windows as he made his way back to his room. The storm stretched out the shadows, made monsters out of coat hooks, and had Bruce significantly more on edge when he was imagining some knife-fingered murderer lurking behind every door. 

He was so caught up in meticulously imagining the theoretical ways that he could kick some monster butt that when he entered his room, he almost didn't register the other presence there. 

But, the large shape moved, and Bruce dealt with it as any strong and powerful superhero would. 

He yelped and tripped over a kitchen table. 

Groaning, he stumbled to his feet, different scenarios flying through his head when another fork of lightning illuminated the familiar face in front of him. 

Thor was sat on his sofa, hair dripping from the rain, blue eyes wide with something that shoved Bruce's imaginary foes to the side in exchange for something a touch more real. A touch more worrying. 

"Thor?" 

Bruce let out a careful sigh of relief, shrugging his cardigan from his shoulders in a fruitless effort to seem more casual after his...dramatic entrance. 

"I uh…didn't mean to frighten you, so. Are you well?" 

Thor leant forward, frowning with concern at where Bruce's knee had made great battle with the table leg. 

"No, no - I'm fine. Just wasn't expecting you, is all." He perched on the arm of the sofa, one arm extending towards the hanging cord of a lamp. 

"Thought you weren't due back from Asgard except for emergencies?" 

"Strictly speaking, I'm not back."

Thor's voice wavered somewhat, and the Demigod shied away from the light, scooting further back on the sofa - large, broad shoulders hunching over in an effort to look small. 

Not that Thor ever really could look small. But the action alone was somewhat concerning. 

Blonde hair fell over blue eyes as Thor jerked his head up towards the door, with a flash of recognition like he'd just remembered something important. 

"Please don't tell Stark I'm here. Or anyone. Asgard doesn't know I'm gone, and I just -"

"Hey, hey. It's fine, everyone's asleep now, anyway. No one's gotta know." 

Ok, Bruce was moving from concerned into outright fearful. Thor's voice was shaking harder than his shoulders, and he restlessly shifted from position to position - hands gripping the soft material of the sofa with so tight a grip that it was a miracle the wood wasn't splintering. 

"Just out of curiosity, why are you here? Is something wrong?" 

"Yes. Well, no. Well…" Thor trailed off, shaking his head as his frown deepened. 

"It's personal." 

"Right." 

Cautiously, Bruce extended a hand out to rest against Thor's shoulder. 

In moments like these, however far and wide they may have been, it was better to approach Thor slowly rather than rush in. Mostly out of self preservation - when the Demigod got upset, things tended to get…sparky. The kind of sparky that may entice a certain green individual out to see what all the fuss is about, and Bruce was really trying to keep the tower intact. 

Bruce's hand made contact, and mercifully, his nerves remained thoroughly un-electrocuted. 

"You uh...wanna talk about it?" 

"It is… difficult to explain," 

Thor glanced up, his face forming a bitter ghost of his usual 1000 volt grin. 

"You'll think me mad." 

"Try me."

Thor nodded, more to himself than anything else, and the ice cold fear in Bruce's lungs began to thaw. 

Thor, thankfully, was not as shut off as others would like to believe. Or, maybe he was, and Bruce was one of the rare few privy to the Asgardians feelings. Whatever the case, it never took too much prying from Bruce to get to the route of Thor's troubles. 

The two told each other things. That's just how it was. It was a warm feeling - comforting. Like a cozy blanket settled across the shoulders, or a mug of hot tea clasped between two cold hands. 

For so long, it seemed the both of them were encouraged to lock down feelings. To freeze emotion where it stood. 

For some reason, Bruce felt capable of thawing in the warmth of Thor's sun. And he was all too happy to return the favour. 

"I have not been resting well, as of late. Being on Asgard, knowing Loki is below me somewhere in a dungeon, it just feels...wrong. Like I shouldn't be sleeping - like I am undeserving, " 

Thor shrugged his shoulders, some of the tension beginning to seep out. 

"But I'm so tired, Bruce." 

The demigod's head fell into his hands, the rain outside hammering against the windowpane. Bruce tried not to flinch at the sound of thunder - a tremendously difficult task when you know for a fact that the storm is brewing right above your head, and that the source of it is curled next to you, currently having a crisis of guilt.

Bruce let a few beats of silence pass by, rubbing comforting circles into the demigods shoulder as he mulled over the words. 

"Thor, could you look at me for a sec?" 

Thor, albeit a little reluctantly, met Bruce's eyeline - suddenly seeming so much younger peeking out from behind stray strands of hair.

Younger, and so much more afraid. 

"You know what happened in New York wasn't your fault, right?" 

The scientist moved a little closer, until his knee brushed against the cold metal of the top of Thor's boot. 

"If I had not expressed an interest in Midgard, then-"

"Then Loki would've come through the tesseracts portal regardless. This one isn't on you. It's...I don't know, I don't think it's on anyone."

Tony's frantic eyes momentarily flashed before him, and Bruce's face fell somewhat as he muttered. 

"Anyone we know of, at least." 

"The damage is still done, Bruce. Regardless of where or who by." 

A shuddering sigh escaped the demigod, his voice suddenly sounding that much tighter. 

"It is my burden to bear, my penance to pay, and I am not even sure I can do that for much longer." 

Bruce smiled softly, bringing one calloused hand up to rest against the side of Thor's neck. The gesture seemed to bring a sense of familiarity, and for a moment, the rain outside didn't hammer so loudly. Thor's skin was warm under his hand, and in the silence of the living room, Bruce could've sworn he could feel the storm move and shift under Thor's skin. 

"Y'know, we've got a saying here on Midgard. 'A problem shared is a problem halved' - you know that one?"

"No," Thor frowned, turning to face him a little more. 

"What does it mean?"

"It means that you don't have to bear this burden alone, Thor. I've got you." 

He unclenched his other hand from the sofa, linking his fingers between Thor's. 

"You can rest here." 

Watching scary movies with Tony had been a bad idea. It made sleeping alone that much more unbearable, when you'd imagine monsters of every calibre creeping up behind you. 

But, it seemed that Bruce had stumbled across a cure for that particular ailment. One in the form of a large and thunderous Demigod, sprawled across his sofa, head laying in Bruce's lap - snoring loud enough to put the wakened dead back in their coffins. 

He was glad Thor didn't take much coaxing with these sorts of things. The Demigod didn't seem to indulge in comforts of the emotional kind too often - the large armour and the old English seemed to speak of a childhood where comfort like this was pushed away. 

But, Bruce was happy to be an exception. Happy to lend Thor a t-shirt and sweatpants that were comically small on him, happy to endure shoulder cramp if that meant the demigod would get a good night's sleep for once. 

Thor would return the favour, someday. But for now, Bruce could provide a sanctuary of his own.